


Taskmaster: The Line

by Blurzerker



Series: Taskmaster: The Line [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Marvel - Freeform, Marvel Comics - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blurzerker/pseuds/Blurzerker
Summary: Working alongside his partner Black Ant in Bagalia, the infamous mercenary known as the Taskmaster is living large as the Sheriff of the City of No Laws. But when he stumbles onto a crime that even he can't condone, how far will he go to prove that he's more than just a gun for hire?
Series: Taskmaster: The Line [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712971
Comments: 29
Kudos: 20





	1. On The Job

The only thing honest about Bagalia was the weather.

High above the jungle of skyscrapers that made up the City of No Laws, a sky as grey as static threatened an onslaught of rain. The last four days had seen a torrential downpour that had driven all but the most stubborn of the supervillains, henchmen, and criminals that made up Bagalia's population indoors, and today looked to be no different.

Standing on a street corner near the eastern end of the city in front of an offensively neon vending machine, Taskmaster placed his hands upon his hips and glared through his mask at an empty row of what had once been cream cheese honey buns. His elaborate costume, made up of a skull-shaped helmet, trailing cloak, and blue tights, was one of the most garish to be found in the entire city -- but it WAS weatherproof. "You gotta be kiddin' me. Eric. ERIC!"

Sliding open the side door of the enormous, armored van that the pair preferred to use to discretely get around the city, Black Ant poked his head out and looked around. It was drizzling now, occasional droplets landing across the enormous, red lens of his insectoid mask, causing him to grumble and rub them away. "What?!"

"There's no cream cheese honey buns left!" Taskmaster complained, kicking the base of the machine and turning about towards the van.

"I know! It's a tragedy. What do you want me to do about it, though?"

"Get the number of the vending machine guy. I specifically requested he keep those stocked for me." Tapping the badge that read 'Sheriff' across his chest, Taskmaster opened the driver's side of the vehicle and clambered up inside, sweeping his cape up so that it wouldn't bundle under his ass. He hated that.

"Can't have someone disrespecting the Sheriff," Black Ant agreed, picking up his phone in one hand and lifting his mask with the other. No sooner had Taskmaster started the van and begun to drive, filling half of the narrow city street with the vehicle, than he heard a familiar plastic crinkling. He nearly slammed the brakes in outrage when he realized what it was: Black Ant opening and starting to eat one of the exact honey buns he'd been looking for."

"...You son of a bitch." Taskmaster narrowed his eyes as he hit the accelerator, starting off again. "You're lucky we've got a job to do, or I'd be pryin' that out of yer dead hands."

"Thity of No Lawth, Tony!" Eric replied, spitting crumbs everywhere.

\--

They'd been driving for nearly half an hour before Taskmaster caught sight of their goal: an armored personnel carrier, considerably larger even than their own and with a mounted chaingun on the top, manned by a man in a ski mask. "There they are."

Fresh off his sugar binge, Black Ant tugged his mask back down, leaning forward to inspect the other vehicle over the dashboard. "Just looks like your typical gun-car for kids of all ages to me. What's the play here?"

"Easy, little buddy." Shifting into a higher gear, Tony accelerated, reaching behind him with one arm to grab his weapons belt off the back of the seat. Simple and black on the outside, the inside of the back revealed the van for what it was: one of Punisher's old Battle Vans, seized after Baron Zemo had captured the violent vigilante some months back. It had 'mysteriously' gone missing during one of Taskmaster's inventory reports since then, and he'd gotten plenty of mileage out of it ever since. "In the unique position of the Sheriff of Bagalia, a city with no laws--"

Black Ant thudded his head against the leather of his car seat. "Oh my god, not this speech again."

"--I don't enforce the stilted and limited laws of other nations, but the will of the common people! The -citizens- of this great and independent nation!" Taskmaster boasted, rolling down the driver's side window and leaning out, his trusted longbow in hand. A perfect replica of Hawkeye's, right down to the massive draw weight. Picking out an explosive arrow from his quiver, he nocked it.

"...Okay, so who's paying us to do this, then?" Eric asked, faithfully taking the wheel and crossing one leg over Taskmaster's own to hit the gas. They'd practiced this move for awhile, despite arguments about the fact it'd be easier to just let Black Ant drive. As Taskmaster had insisted - his (stolen) van, his rules. The gunner on top of the APC was looking at them now, warning them silently to back off by turning the barrel of his weapon towards them.

Ignoring it entirely, Taskmaster just waved cheerfully before ducking his head back inside as they opened fire. The bulletproof windshield of Punisher's old ride took it like a champion; he knew he had about four seconds before it finally yielded, and so he popped out just enough to take his shot. His vision rocked as the explosive arrow went off right into the other APC's tailpipe, wreathing the undercarriage in flames and sending it skidding sideways until it tipped over. Ducking back inside, making a face of mild concern at the bullet dents on the van barely an inch from where his head had been, Taskmaster replied, "Oh. Tiger Shark. Said these guys keep coming around to the docks and loading up boxes, and he can't sleep because they're using his pier."

"Nice shot," Eric complimented, "But wait -- Tiger Shark?! Isn't he, like, one of the strongest guys in Bagalia? And also a BIG FREAKING SHARK? How come he couldn't handle something like this himself?"

"Dunno, but he paid up front. Come on, let's go meet our adventurous little entrepreneurs. Looks like someone's climbing out; guess I didn't do that much damage after all." Taskmaster peered suspiciously at a man extricating himself from the capsized vehicle, pulling himself out of the passenger side window.

"Fair enough. First Deputy Black Ant on the scene!" Polishing his own badge, Eric opened his side of the van.

"Second Deputy. TESS-one was first," Taskmaster corrected.

"Robots don't count, Tony!"

"You're an LMD."

"--OKAY WELL TESS-ONE DOESN'T COUNT." Eric pointed two fingers at his own mask, then at Taskmaster, before suddenly yelping and ducking out of the way of a pressurized jet of water. It proved to be a smart call; as soon as the water hit the van behind him, it bored a hole through the armored plating like it was paper, causing both Taskmaster and Black Ant to exchange a wary look before settling into a defensive stance.

"HELLO, LOSERS!" Spreading his arms wide, the man advanced fearlessly. He was stripped to the waist, wearing only a pair of loose pants. His exposed skin, of which there was far too much for Taskmaster's liking, was a deep and vibrant blue. "You've made the mistake of intruding upon the business of my employers! It has fallen to me, Jason Waterfalls, to stop you -- and stop you I will!"

Straightening a little, Taskmaster furrowed his brow behind his mask. "Wait--"

Black Ant, sharing his confusion, lifted a finger. "--What did you say your name was?"

Deflating very slightly but still maintaining a boastful tone, the blue man jabbed a thumb at his chest. "JAAAAASON WATERFALLS! Master of the most essential element of life!"

"That's -- that's awful," Taskmaster proclaimed. "How'd you manage to come up with something even lamer than Hydro Man?"

Dropping his arms entirely, sounding exasperated, Jason glared at them both. "You idiots, it's like the song!"

"What song?" Black Ant asked sincerely.

"You know! The famous one!" Clearing his throat, breaking into song in the middle of the street, he struck a pose. "♫...DOOOON'T GO JAAAAASON WATERFALLLLS!♫" Turning his attention back to the pair, he beamed. "Get it?"

"...It's 'chasing waterfalls', you stupid asshole!" Taskmaster cried out, rapidly nocking and firing another explosive arrow. "The absolute insult to Destiny's Child!" As the arrow whizzed towards its destination, Jason simply lifted a hand, a sheet of water surging out from his body and forming a wall in front of him. It not only absorbed the explosion but provided a counter-attack, blasting Taskmaster off his feet.

"I thought that song was by TLC," Black Ant commented, looking down at him before offering him a hand up.

"Shut up. Okay, so. Dumb name, very powerful. Got it," Taskmaster sighed, forcing himself back into a standing position and making a run for the battle van.

"I'm gonna guess this guy is why Tiger Shark couldn't handle this himself," Black Ant said. "What's the game plan? Doesn't take an expert to assume that the fact it's about to rain means he's probably going to get even tougher. This isn't really what I had in mind when I said I wanted a wet and wild weekend, Tony." Both of them were put on the defensive as the opposing supervillain continued launching jets of water at them, punching more holes into the van and keeping them pinned down.

"You ever fought Hydro Man before?" Taskmaster asked, opening the back of the van and ducking another jet before grabbing his shield from inside. To his relief, it didn't look damaged; whatever power allowed their ridiculous new foe to fire water hard enough to penetrate steel, it apparently couldn't get through genuine vibranium.

"Nope. Have you?"

"Nope. Damn. Uhh...what's water weak against?" Using his shield for cover, Tony peeked out over the edge of the van. He managed to block the next projectile, but even though it couldn't get through the shield, it nearly sent him right back off his feet again. It was raining harder now, the drizzle having erupted into a genuine torrent.

"According to my Pokemon game, Electricity and...Graaaaasss? Does Bagalia have any local parks?" Black Ant checked his phone.

"--Electricity, Eric. We're gonna go with electricity."

"That's probably the better idea, yes. I'll distract, you zap?"

"Bingo, little buddy." They bumped fists and then Eric shrank, using the Pym Particles in his suit to minimize his profile. By the time he was done, he was barely six inches tall.

"The weather's gonna make this tricky," Black Ant warned. "It's a lot harder to ignore dog-sized rain, so make it quick!" Proving his point, the next droplet smacked square into his back, sending him stumbling as he dove out into the open, growing to catch Jason's attention. "Hey, jackass!" Shrinking even smaller when he was shot at, he successfully seemed to grab the man's attention.

"Disruptor arrows won't quite do the trick by themselves," Tony grumbled to himself, fishing a few out from the van and glancing around. They could, however, cause the chain reaction he needed. Waiting until Jason's back was turned as he chased Black Ant with his attacks, Tony took aim and launched his shield upwards, perfectly mimicking the stance of Captain America as he released. This was going to be tricky, even for him - but it was the best idea he had.

The sharpened edge of his shield cut a power line crossing the street, sending it whipping loudly towards the street. His attention drawn, Jason turned to regard the cable, jumping out of the way as it crackled and swung past like an electrified vine. "You morons; you think I'm not paying attention to you, Taskmaster?!"

"I'm hoping you are." Lifting his bow away from Jason and towards the sky, Taskmaster fired his disruptor arrow just in time as another blast of water smashed into his stomach. The protective fabric of his costume managed to protect him from the worst of it, as he'd been counting on -- but he could still feel at least four ribs break from the sheer concussive force; without being able to penetrate, the powerful jet had dissipated painfully against his body. "Rrgh."

Assuming he'd made Taskmaster miss, Jason was forced to turn his attention back to Black Ant, who was launching himself at the man in a seemingly desperate gambit. In truth, it was simply a distraction from the disruptor arrow -- Taskmaster had gauged his shot carefully, using every combined skill he'd gained from Bullseye, Hawkeye, and Cap in the process...along with a little trust in his best friend. Rebounding off the shield that was still sailing downward from the arc of its throw, the arrow ricocheted perfectly towards Jason Waterfalls, hitting him square in the back. His body surged with the EMP contained in the arrowhead; he staggered forward, swinging wildly at Black Ant, who ducked behind him to catch the power line on its next swing, jabbing it square into Jason's eyes.

"You...mother--!!" The man roared before his teeth began to chatter from the current running through him. Launched like an uncoiling spring, he catapulted himself to the ground with bone-crushing impact as his muscles seized.

"Huh," Black Ant murmured. "I kinda figured he was MADE of water."

"--Yeah, me too." Taskmaster nudged the body with his foot once it stopped moving. "I guess a power line to the face is gonna put you down either way, though. Nice job."

"Thanks. --Shield!"

Without looking up, Taskmaster lifted his arm to catch it. "I know. They never watch the shield on the way back, do they?"

"It's a little sad, honestly. --Hey, let's go see what they were shipping, anyways. Stupid name or not, this guy was some pretty serious muscle. Maybe we can sell it." Eric made his way towards the APC, quickly checking for other survivors in the front seat and shaking his head. "Clear! Now for the loot." Rubbing his hands together, he circled around to open the back hatch. "Come to Eri--oh."

Swallowing hard, Eric looked up. "...Tasky? You might want to come see this."

Taskmaster grabbed his sword, following Eric to take in what he'd found. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his pal sound so distressed, but it didn't take long for him to figure out why. "--Ah, hell."

Curled up in a group as far away as they could be from the costumed mercenaries, half a dozen children, none looking over ten years old, stared at them with wide eyes.


	2. Babysitting

The pouring rain was battering the roof of the toppled APC with enough force to echo loudly throughout the interior, but Taskmaster didn't even notice. His eyes never left the group of children huddled within, and when Black Ant started to speak, his voice was only a distant droning in his right ear. It took nearly ten seconds for the senior mercenary to snap himself out of his fugue, regarding his partner with something akin to shock.

"...Tasky--TASKY! Hey! Damn, buddy. We lose you for a second?" Black Ant looked confused, and Taskmaster couldn't blame him. In all their time working together, the size-shifter hadn't ever seen his former mentor so stunned. "What are we gonna do, man? We're in the middle of Bagalia's most dangerous district, and there's a bunch of brats stashed away?" Turning his head to the kids, Eric lifted a hand. "No offense, brats." Unsurprisingly, they didn't respond; they just kept regarding the pair with wide eyes and shaking bodies.

"Waterfall's dead, right? Not trying to...I dunno, crawl away or nothin'?" Taskmaster asked. There must have been something in his tone, because the normally snarky Eric actually took the time to peek around the back of the truck at their fallen enemy. 

"Well, he's smoking and not moving. I'm gonna say yeah! Probably dead."

"...Gimme a sec. Watch the kids." Circling the vehicle until Jason's body came into sight, Tony reached down to his hip with his left hand. He didn't like guns; found them not particularly sporting, far too loud, and a little inflexible when it came to live captures. Right now, though, he was glad he had one as he drew it in a blur, emptying twelve shots into the body on the ground. Each bullet tore another piece out of the dead man, leaving him visibly riddled with holes and bleeding out by the time the skull-masked killer was finished. Reloading the gun, Tony seriously considered emptying another clip inside of him...but this was his last one, and you never knew what the day would hold. Reluctantly, he re-holstered the pistol and approached the APC again.

"Hey, kids...don't worry about those sounds. My partner's just working out his deeply repressed anger issues, you know? I promise--augh! AUGH! TASKY, HELP!" Eric's voice rang out in a panic.

Taskmaster broke into a run, nearly slipping on the wet road as he flung himself around the corner of the armored truck. "What is it, lil' buddy?! Reinforce--" Well, he was not prepared for what he saw. No sooner did Taskmaster return to Black Ant than he saw four of the five children they had just found jumping him, assaulting Eric with their small fists and feet. Eric was holding them off, flinging one away and shielding his face before lifting his knee to block another, but Taskmaster didn't need photographic reflexes to realize what was off here; these weren't normal kids. They were -trained-. 

"What is that...is that fucking -Red Room-?" Taskmaster asked, shocked. One of the children, a mousy-looking girl who had to be maybe seven or eight, caught sight of Taskmaster. With a fearless howl of anger, she lunged at him, assaulting the mercenary with a kick that he immediately identified as the martial art of Savate. "Hey, watch it--" Taskmaster replied as he nudged his shield to intercept. She had good technique, but she was so small - and clearly starved - that there wasn't much power behind it.

"RED ROOM, BLUE ROOM, ONE FISH! TWO FISH! I DON'T CARE GET THEM OFF ME! I don't wanna hurt these kids, but I wanna be hurt by them even less!" With two of the children battering the red lenses of his mask and a third pummeling at his groin, Eric wasn't having a good time of it. To his credit, Tony could tell he wasn't actually fighting back, at least not seriously.

"Quit panicking and just grow, O'Grady!" Taskmaster barked to Black Ant. "They're already half yer size; make 'em even smaller! Or get small yerself...heh; talk to them on their level -- ow!" He winced as, while he was distracted, the girl who had been assaulting him punched him square in the stomach - right where Waterfalls had cracked a few of his ribs. "Hrgh...you lil' shit! I'm on YOUR side here!" 

Glaring up at him, apparently suspicious but judging it worth exploring, the child stepped back and lifted a hand. She was apparently the leader of the group, because as soon as she did so, the others leaped off of O'Grady - who was now nearly ten feet tall and growing in an attempt to get them off him - and fell into line behind her. Even battered and all skin and bones, they looked intelligent, focused, and deadly; the 'wide-eyed terror' from before was gone; clearly nothing but an act. "Only five of you jumping us like weird little gremlins," Tony remarked. "Where's the sixth?"

The brown-haired girl jabbed a thumb over her shoulder towards the APC as Black Ant shrank back to normal. "Hurt in the crash, broken leg," she replied. "Your doing, I assume." Taskmaster didn't get a hint of a Russian accent, but those were pretty easy to hide for Red Room trainees. He'd have to ask if he wanted to know the truth. Rubbing at his ribs, he tested the damage with a series of small pokes. One definitely broken, another cracked; the rest just felt extremely bruised.

"Yeah, it was. Sorry; we didn't know they were transporting...live cargo." Just the words made him feel sick to his stomach, but even worse was the fact he knew that he'd considered using a bigger arrow for this task. What if he'd pulled a wide-band particle explosive, like that one he'd used years ago when dealing with The Thing? He could have killed them. He could have killed all of them. Would that have bothered him? The fact he legitimately didn't know certainly did.

"...Look, you kids are clearly trained to fight. You mind explaining the situation? I happen to be SHERIFF 'round these here parts--" Using his sword, he tapped at his badge. They couldn't see it, but he was smiling with genuine pride behind his mask. Then again, the skull face he wore did have a strange flexibility to it; at times it really did seem to reflect his expressions beneath. He chalked it up to good craftsmanship.

"--Oh my god," Eric interjected.

"--And I consider it my responsibility - no, my PRIVILEGE - to aid you in these dark and troubled times." 

"I will tell you nothing. You are The Taskmaster," the girl said, jabbing a thumb behind her. "And that is The Black Ant. Gun-thugs for hire, loyal to nothing and nobody." 

"Hey, we're famous!" Eric chirped, planting his hands proudly on his hips.

"...And you are to be TRUSTED with nothing and nobody, least of all my people. Get out of our way. We will escape on our own." Snorting authoritatively, the girl started back towards the APC. "Akeja! Load Sven up for transportation, fireman's carry." A slightly larger girl with half-ruined braids climbed into the vehicle, grabbing the wounded boy inside. "Got it, Commander!"

Exchanging a look, the two mercenaries watched the children methodically address their wounded comrade. "God, it's like an Oompa Loompa war film," Black Ant mused.

"Yeah, wait - that girl, Akeja," Taskmaster commented. "That was a Wakandan accent. Now I -really- gotta know what's going on." 

"Better figure it out quick, they're leaving."

"To hell they are." Taskmaster set out to block the path of the children, who unanimously regarded him with threatening looks; even little Sven, blonde and blue-eyed, hanging across Akeja's shoulders like a limp weight. 

"Look; I get it. You don't trust us, and I don't blame you. But if you know who we are, you know -where- we are. This is Bagalia; you can't go two blocks without stumbling onto supervillains, and they aren't even the worst people in this town. You think whoever was paying Waterfalls to transport you is going to let this go? He was high-end muscle; you all represent a significant investment."

"And you want to collect on us yourself," their 'Commander' responded. "You'll have to kill us all! We're NOT going back! Not for anything!" Her voice, which had made such an attempt at cool arrogance only a minute ago, was starting to break. She looked and sounded legitimately scared, and with Taskmaster's ability to read body language, he could tell that as she tensed up, she wasn't preparing to attack; she was trying to keep from collapsing. 

Taskmaster greatly preferred to speak off the cuff. He had an extremely poor memory and he didn't like to come off rehearsed, but right now, he felt the rare need to choose his words carefully. He didn't bother squatting down in front of the kids; it felt disingenuous, plus he was pretty sure they were still thinking of jumping him and he didn't want to be off-balance. But he DID place his sword back at his belt; he'd just been using to to show off his badge anyways. "Look, I get it." He could do this. He could, just this once, actually take this seriously. "Yer wounded, tired, hungry, and scared -- don't gimme that look, there's no shame in it -- Ya been through a lot, and now you got someone who's famous for doing anything for money extending a helping hand. It ain't right, is it? Havin' to try and figure out what to do, not just for yourself, but your people? Being a leader sucks; trust me, I've been there. But I ain't asking you to follow me through the mean streets of Bagalia and hide out at my safehouse so I can turn ya over to someone else, alright? Wherever you six are from, whatever happened to bring you here; I wanna fix it. I -do- take my duties as Sheriff seriously, even if ya might not think I should. Just because this place has no laws don't mean it can't have -ethics-."

The children regarded him for a moment, then turned to their commander; then, they all turned inwards to whisper to each other in a language that even Taskmaster didn't recognize, and he spoke almost a dozen himself. There were hints of African, Chinese, Russian, and South American dialogues - but it all fused together into something that he suspected only these six kids could understand. This was -their- tongue. While they conversed, Taskmaster glanced up to check the skies. All grey, and the rain wasn't letting up. This was unpleasant, but it was also useful. Rain was easier to hide in.

So easy, in fact, someone else was doing it too. If not for the fact he was cycling his mask's thermal imaging systems out of sheer habit, he would have missed it. Next block over, in a sedan that had parked around the corner. Interesting.

Finally, their leader turned back to him. "...I am Mara," she said after a moment, "And we are the Scions; refugees from programs all over the world that exploit children as soldiers and killers. I will not explain more in public like this, but as you can likely surmise, we are highly sought after by the respective organizations that are pursuing us. We are placing our trust in you - however unwisely - at least until we can escape Bagalia. Will you help us, Taskmaster?" 

"I will, but I'm gonna need some help. I gotta contact The Hub. They'll have an idea for how to do this quietly. Wait...Wakanda's training child soldiers?" He asked. 

Akeja stiffened. "How DARE you! Of course not; I was stolen away from my home!" 

"Yeah, yeah, just checking." 

Mouthpiece and organizer for The Org, the mysterious criminal organization that facilitated mercenary work worldwide, The Hub served in many ways as Taskmaster's handler. The enigmatic woman was nothing more than a voice on the other end of the earpiece he was always wearing inside of his mask, the only number he always kept in his phone, and yet he trusted her more than anyone else alive. Even Tony wasn't sure why; she just...made him feel something, and he'd learned long ago to trust his gut. 

"This...Hub can be trusted too?" Mara asked warily. "Will they not sell us out to other mercenaries?"

"No, no, Hub is good people. Promise. Come on, let's get out of this fucking rain while I call her." He ushered the children to follow him, but when Black Ant began to join them, Taskmaster intercepted him. "Eric, I got another job for you."

"What? You're cutting me out, old man?!" Black Ant threw his hands up. "You better not be about to sell these kids behind my back. I put up with a lot from you, but -- OW!" He doubled over as Taskmaster socked him in the gut. "You son of a..."

"Shut up," Tony hissed, leaning down. "Someone's watching us, two streets over. Probably backup for Waterfall's crew. I'm gonna hit you again, like I'm screwing you over here; I need you to go down. After we leave, they'll come to try and collect you. Surprise them and figure out who they're working for." 

"...Okay, but you owe me for this."

"Yeah, sure."

"I mean it, you 'new car' owe me for this!" Eric whispered before collapsing as Taskmaster kneed him savagely in the stomach. "Too...real." 

"Thanks, little buddy." Taskmaster turned and pursued the children with that, joining them as they ran into a nearby alleyway. It was still pouring, but the awnings of the adjacent buildings meant that the soaked kids were at least not still getting rained on. Taking the lead, Taskmaster crossed the alley and pointed at a large, black building a few blocks away. "We're heading there. Used to be Zemo's mansion before Punisher ran him out of town. Hub will likely want us to meet her people there to get you extracted." 

"Fine," Mara replied. Taskmaster pressed a button on his phone, a 'hotdial' for The Org that connected to his mask. In the distance, he could hear the car approaching where he'd left Black Ant. He hoped he hadn't put Eric up against someone who was too much for him. Waterfall had been no joke, despite the name.

"Taskmaster," came the familiar female voice. Immediately, he relaxed despite the situation. She just had that effect on him. "Looking for work? Things are a bit slow right now, but for my best operative, I always--"

"--Sorry to cut ya off, Hub, but I'm actually already busy. I need an extraction." He felt weirdly guilty interrupting her.

"An extraction from Bagalia? I'm surprised anyone could drive you out of that hive."

"It's not for me. There's some...kids. Bunch of them."

"Oh, no, Tony," The Hub replied. "You didn't have anything to do with this, did you? Are your memories acting up?"

"What? No! NO!" He barked, offended. "I -saved- them! Jeez! You know I don't take work without running it by you. And I didn't -- look, don't worry about it. It's related to the King Shark gig. They were the...'cargo' he was overhearing." Wait. Did she just call him Tony? They never used names.

There was a pause, the kind he never expected. As professional as she was, The Hub almost never hesitated. "...Okay. I'll look into it, and I'm sending someone. Get them to Zemo's old helipad...stay safe, Taskmaster." 

"Yeah, already on the way. Thanks." Cutting the call, Taskmaster glanced back over his shoulder to the children. "Alright, let's go back out. Try to move, but not -too- fast. That damned Hydro Man wannabe busted up my ribs somethin' fie--er...hi."

The children had already scattered, fleeing back towards the street. They were hiding behind another figure who'd just appeared, a small woman who nonetheless had the strength to hurl an unconscious Black Ant at Tony's feet.

"I knew you were low, Taskmaster...but this is bad, even for you." 

Laura Kinney, the Wolverine, was blocking the only way back out of the alleyway, and wearing an expression of complete disgust.


	3. Misunderstandings

I swear to god, this happens every time I try to do something nice, Taskmaster thought to himself as he desperately ducked back from another swipe of Wolverine's claws. Laura Kinney had been coming on hard and fast for nearly thirty very long seconds by now, assaulting him with the unique blend of ferocity and finesse that he'd come to characterize her fighting style as. He had battled her before, and he knew her moves well by now, but that doesn't fix his broken ribs; he's having a difficult time. "Damn it, Kinney! I told you, this wasn't ME!" 

He couldn't afford an offense right now. It was a lot easier to survive if he focused on the assault underway. He use his photographic reflexes to read her movements, the familiar and new alike, predicting each blow. A claw thrust is deftly blocked at the wrist, pushed upward by his own; he didn't know if she was aware his shield was true vibranium, and he didn't want to play that particular card unless he absolutely had to.

Wolverine swung her boot towards Taskmaster in reply. He made a sour face behind his mask and fell back, pirouetting and lifting his sword to intercept a kick at the shin, forcing her to stop lest she lop her own leg off. 

"Your word means nothing, Taskmaster." Laura's tone was biting. "The first time we met, you shot my sister - my KID sister."

"I thought she was a fucking midget!" He replied in reply, exasperated. 

Damn it, that came out wrong. Why was he so bad at this? Furious at his comment, Wolverine was swiping both arms across, one after the other, in a tightly guarded rush. She wasn't berserk - he could see the clever way that she was guarding herself during each swing, keeping her balance in a manner that allowed her to lunge backwards if he finally countered - but she was clearly furious, and his comment hadn't helped. 

Taskmaster took another step back into the alleyway, but soon he was hitting the fence. Quick as he was, Kinney was just as fast; he couldn't climb fast enough to avoid getting claws in his back for his trouble. Sighing reluctantly, he finally committed to fighting back, even as he made another plea for her to calm down. "I MEANT I don't hurt kids, damn it - Alchemax gave me bad intel on that job! Said they were just mindless defects." Wolverine was coming at him again, and with nowhere else to go, Taskmaster made his move. She went high, so he ducked low, feeling the air from the swipe of her claws passing over his head. It hurt his damaged ribs to be crouching this low, but it was necessary. Lifting his shield up, he uncoiled his legs like a spring, crashing into the woman hard enough to send her flying until she landed in a backwards roll. While she was shockingly strong for her size, Taskmaster was as well - and had over a hundred pounds of muscle on her. As far as advantages went, it was a small one; he'd seen her take down bigger people than him. Still, he could use it when fighting defensively.

"Yeah? What do -you- think, kids?" To her credit, Wolverine wasn't ignoring his words outright. Watching him warily, she spoke over her shoulder to the children that she'd mistakenly thought he was kidnapping. He'd been watching them confer for awhile, and truth be told, he wasn't all that surprised when Mara replied, jabbing a thumb behind her at her injured comrade, "Taskmaster broke his leg." 

Rounding on Taskmaster, Wolverine lunged again.

"God DAMN it, you little brats! What's that all about?! I was helping you!" But he knew exactly what this was. The kids, coldly pragmatic like only trained assassins could be, were waiting to see how this played out; whoever won would be more useful to them, and they had no compulsions about letting either Wolverine or Taskmaster get injured - or worse - finding the answer to that question. 

"Cold-hearted little shits..." He didn't have much time to ruminate on it, though. Now that he'd actually hit Kinney back, she was stepping up her game. An onslaught of swipes and kicks, turning her into some kind of bladed whirlwind, forced Taskmaster to give up what little ground he had gained with his shield thrust. Catching her wrist on one roundabout swing, the mercenary pivoted at the hip; thrusting his elbow back, he locked and flung her over his shoulder in a rare technique he'd borrowed right from Shang-Chi. Truth be told, that was one of the only martial artists he trusted to be useful against Laura; he was pretty confident that relying on many of his usual moves would get him killed, because as good as those people were? She was better. 

Case in point, he'd barely released her when she was springing back at him, having landed in a crouch and adjusted her momentum with so much speed and force that it had surely broken her ankles - a cost she could afford, a move that even he couldn't copy. "Damn!" Tony barked, turning as best he could. A claw aimed for his sword arm sank instead into his collarbone, causing him to yelp in pain as the kinetic-absorbing fibers were pierced like paper by her adamantium. Forced to drop his weapon as his muscles started to seize, Taskmaster glared at Wolverine, lifting his now one good arm up at her. "Yer making a mistake, Kinney...I'm the only hope these kids got."

"You're really sticking to that story, huh?" She asked. "I might even believe you, Masters; I've never known you to keep fighting like this when you couldn't win...but I don't trust you enough to risk children over. I won't kill you, but I can't let you take them. Honestly...I'm sorry." She looked it, too, hesitating ever so slightly; and then she closed in, little more than a blur. 

"Yeah...me too." Last time they'd fought, he hadn't taken her seriously. Maybe it had been her size, or her youth, or just the fact he'd been leery of that whole job; but he'd paid for it when Wolverine had surprised him with her foot claws, burying one of them in the center of his friend. He'd promised he wouldn't make that mistake again; live and learn. That was the only motto that mattered. He really hadn't ever seen someone who fought quite like Laura Kinney, and when Taskmaster found someone THAT impressive, there was only one thing he could do. 

Wolverine swiped her claws upwards, looking to cut the straps of his shield right off his arm; Taskmaster could see the precision and finesse of the blow, but he was already in motion. With incredible flexibility for a man of his size, the bulk of his body shifting in a downright feminine way, he pirouetted backwards away from her strike. As her blades cut only air, Wolverine widened her eyes in surprise; she recognized that move, but too late.

The retracting boot-claw that Taskmaster had installed, a perfect mimickry of Laura's own, unsheathed directly into her jaw, spearing its way up into her brain. As the other end emerged from the top of her skull, she went limp, and then a sickening squelch filled the air as he ripped the blade free. 

Barely finishing out the backwards flip, Taskmaster staggered on landing, nearly collapsing. "Ergh...damn, that hurts to do with a broken rib. Sorry, Kinney...but you'll be up and at 'em in a few hours. Not much that can keep you down." With that, he finally started to rise, rounding on the children. "As for -you- little opportunistic gremlins...really just wanted to wait and see who'd win that one, huh? I try to help you, and you sic the fuckin' Wolverine on me. Maybe I -should- just leave you here."

"...We're still waiting," Akeja replied, looking past him.

"Wha--?"

A few hours? Apparently not. Half her face missing, brain visible through her pierced skull, Wolverine leapt atop Taskmaster's back; before he could even react, her claws were pressed to his throat. She was a sickening sight, scalp peeled and one eye completely blind -- but she was healing fast, and clearly "I suppose I'm flattered," she said, her voice slurred some due to the fact that it was still healing from the hole that he'd staked through it. "You thought I was worth copying." 

"I never settle for less than the best," Taskmaster replied honestly. 

"Well, thanks. Still, you missed one detail: I would -never- have turned my back on an opponent with a healing factor."

"...Me either," Tony said through gritted teeth, glaring at the adamantium pressed against his neck. "But I can't have these kids running off in Bagalia; there's a thousand ways for them to die here. Was afraid they'd get spooked after seeing me stake you and bolt." 

Narrowing her eyes just as the damaged one regained its sight, Laura dropped off his back. "...You're actually serious. You really are trying to help them. Never thought I'd see Taskmaster, of all people, put himself at risk for someone else." Setting her jaw, Wolverine pulled her cowl off, unable to get it to properly sit on her head thanks to how torn up it was. With alarming speed, she redirected that stern energy towards the mischievous children. 

"You withheld critical information. You made me hurt someone who was trying to help you - and help me. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Mara replied without hesitation, "He probably deserved it."

Pursing her lips and glancing sidelong at Taskmaster, Laura shrugged a bit. "I can't really argue with that. Sorry, Masters. Regardless, can you keep going? Looks like I got you good there."

"Ah, don't flatter yerself," Tony replied. Big words, considering he was prodding thoughtfully at the place she'd stabbed him and wondering how long it'd be until he could lift that arm again. "I was injured way before you got here."

"I'm not sure that's the braggadocio you think it is."

"Ah, shut up. I can keep going. You're going to help, then?"

"I'm going to help -them-, Taskmaster. If that means tolerating your presence in the meantime...so be it." 

The two regarded each other for a long moment, tension in the air. Even if they'd found reason to stop fighting, it was obvious that they were a long way away from being friends. Before they could break eye contact, a groaning from between them drew both of their attention to the ground.

It was Black Ant, finally starting to wake from when Laura had ambushed him and knocked him unconscious. Rising into a sitting position, clutching his head through the cracked armor of his helmet, the LMD took one look at Laura muttered, "Just our luck. We stumble onto a bunch of kids and get jumped by the poster child of damaged children."

"Yeah, well, stay focused on the mission, Eric," Taskmaster proclaimed. That drew Black Ant's attention to him, then back to Laura. 

"Jeez, you two really fucked each other up."

"Maybe, but she gets to actually heal hers." The throbbing of his shoulder had Tony envying, however briefly, Wolverine's healing factor; then he remembered what one had done to Deadpool and immediately got over that little sentiment."Get up, Eric. We lost a lot of time with this little distraction, and we gotta get moving."

Nodding in reply, Eric pushed himself up to his feet, wincing. "Damn...What'd you hit me with, a brick?" He asked Wolverine.

"...My fist," she replied simply.

"Right, right, adamantium."

"No, just my fist."

"Shut up."

As Taskmaster opened one of his pouches and grabbed a sewing kit, Laura stopped before the children. "You had your fun, but if you want to be safe, you need to actually listen to us from now on. No more playing tricks, and no more lying about who is hurting or helping you."

"We didn't lie. Taskmaster really did break his leg."

"...Even so."

Five minutes later, they were ready to set out. Taskmaster had crudely stitched up his wound - all the photographic reflexes in the world couldn't make self-surgery smooth - and Black Ant had recovered from his bout with unconsciousness. Surrounding the children in a triangle formation, Wolverine, Taskmaster, and Black Ant set out towards the center of Bagalia City.

None of them were aware of just what was waiting between them and their destination.


	4. Escort Mission

"Thith was supposed to be an eathy day, Tathmather." 

Slowly filing through the alleyways of Bagalia, Taskmaster, Wolverine, and Black Ant weren't making great time with their young charges. Laura had taken it upon herself to carry the injured boy, who Tony had learned was named Sven, across her back; she had the greatest stamina of the trio and was the least injured. Despite his slight limp, Taskmaster had taken point, bow in hand; he was the best shot and had the greatest chance of picking off oncoming threats silently from afar. Black Ant, meanwhile, was bringing up the rear; following behind the children, the size-shifting mercenary had another honey bun in hand, taking bites between each sentence. 

Stopping briefly when he heard a cry of pain, Tony opened a pouch and back a syringe of morphine from his pouch to Laura to give to Sven. The kid had been whining from the jostling of their quick pace for awhile and Tony had ignored it, but now he was starting to sound legitimately distressed. Tony usually kept the meds on hand in case he got hurt -real- bad on a job, but he had other ways of managing his pain -- and something in him, a feeling that was as surprising as it was unfamiliar, welled up at the sight of the boy trying his best to look stoic while a bone was sticking out of his limb. Was it pity? He couldn't remember.

"...How many of those damn honey buns were you smuggling, anyways?" Taskmaster grumbled to Eric.

"I dunno. Six?"

He was too tired to even care; he had greater worries on his mind. He'd tried calling The Hub twice now, once fifteen minutes ago, and once just now -- nothing. 

"She was supposed to send somebody," he complained to Wolverine, raising a hand before the ragtag caravan exited the alleyway. "Don't know why she ain't called back yet."

"Maybe she's just maintaining radio silence," Laura suggested. "Trying to keep quiet while she waits at Zemo's old place." Tony appreciated her solution-oriented mindset; it didn't necessarily put him at ease, but her matter-of-fact demeanor was a lot more confident than he felt right now. "--What's that sound?" Her head cocked like that of a canine, her enhanced senses picking up what was coming long before Taskmaster noticed.

"Oh shit, what day is it? Maybe...hold up. Oh no. I know what this is."

Damn it, he thought to himself. This is exactly what I was worried about. Not enemy mercs, not a supervillain...this. Bagalia just being fuckin' Bagalia.

It was a perverted parody of Mardi Gras: the Bagalia Freedom Festival. Dozens, maybe hundreds of bonafide supervillains, alongside all of their henchmen that were brave enough to venture into the borders of the most lawless city on earth, were marching through the streets. Those that weren't drinking were most definitely on something stronger, and all of them, from the Z-listers to the major leagues like the Wrecking Crew, were going to be doing this all night.

Peeking out from an alleyway between a strip club for Skrulls and The Bar With Fourteen Names, Tony held his bow at the ready and watched the goings-on. He only needed a glimpse to see the supervillain Piledriver turn and kick an offending car out of the way that was trying to get across the street before he made up his mind. "This is gonna take too long. We're gonna be pursued soon if we ain't already, and by the time this little 'traffic jam' goes by, it'll be nearly sun up. Look at that. Stretches all the way back to the damn docks...How did I forget this was today?"

"Is that a serious question?" Eric chimed in.

"Shut up. In fact, how did YOU forget this was today?"

"I didn't." Lifting his mask, Black Ant took another bite of his honey bun. For the first time, Wolverine and Taskmaster seemed to truly be on the same wavelength; in perfect unison, they both turned and shoved him onto his ass. 

"So what's the plan?" Laura asked, glancing back at Taskmaster as Black Ant rubbed his back, rising to his feet. "You know Bagalia better than anyone...when your memory's working. Do you have an idea?"

Ignoring the crack about his memory - he'd have to file that under 'How's she know about that?' for later - Tony regarded the gathered party. "If it were just me, or maybe the three of us? This would be easy. With the little troublemakers, though..." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully behind his mask. "We'll need a distraction; the kind that doesn't draw ANY of us away. Eric...yer best-suited to this."

Tony could almost feel the lenses of his partner's mask trying to squint at that. "Why me? You know, Tony, I'm starting to feel a little over-employed. Maybe you value my skills a lot! Maybe it's time to talk rais--"

"We're...we're partners, Eric. You already get half from every job we do together." He grit his teeth in exasperation; he knew where this was going.

"Yeah! I'm thinking, I dunno...maybe I'm contributing a little more than half this mission. I'm thinking maybe this is a 70/30 cut kind of job."

"Wait. What...what do you think is going to happen here, Eric? No one's paying us for this. This is --" God, it hurt to say -- "...Pro bono."

"Yeah, but -something- is going to happen. We're gonna make a lot of money off this one, Tony. I can feel it." The smaller of the two mercenaries was bouncing in place, leaving Laura regarding him with something akin to disgust.

Taskmaster liked to think he was an open-minded guy. He liked to think that when he took a job, even if it was an informal one like saving these children, he didn't let anything get in the way of focusing on the task at hand. But 70-30? "...Okay, hypothetically, if -somehow- we make a profit off this? 60-40. That's my final offer."

"...Okay, but if I'm wrong, I still keep that cut for our -next- job," Eric insisted. 

"God, you two are pathetic," Laura chimed in.

"You really are!" Akeja had caught up after scouting the back end of the alley that they were coming out of, and she looked extremely annoyed. "I thought we were the kids here."

"Hilarious," Tony commented. "It's a deal. Eric, gonna need you to go big for this one. -Real- big."

"Ooh. I never get to go big." Rubbing his hands together, Black Ant already started out of the alleyway, calling back to them.

"On my signal, you all head off towards Zemo's old place. Can't believe we're messing with the Bagalia Freedom Festival! Feels downright unpatriotic, Tony."

"I know, Eric. We all gotta make sacrifices sometimes."

"Oh my god." Laura buried her face, now fully healed, into both hands. "There are children's lives at stake here." 

"Yes," Eric replied. "But they're kind of mean children, so I'm not going to be guilt-tripped. Let's do this, boys!" Breaking into a run, Black Ant hit his belt. The Pym Particles that surged through his suit came to life, his form growing with every step. By the time he was intruding upon the parade, he was easily over twenty feet tall - and still growing.

"What the fuck?!" Came a cry of alarm. 

"It's that shitty Ant-Man!"

"Which one?!" 

Turning his attention back to the children, Taskmaster nodded. "Best shot we're gonna get. Let's go."

"He had a point about you taking advantage of him," Laura conceded when she slipped out of the alleyway, the injured Sven still on her back. Despite his added weight, she still nimbly managed to suddenly fling herself up towards a fire escape on their side of the street, using it as leverage to swing like a gymnast back and forth until she was able to hurl herself up onto the roof of the pharmacy next door. "Come on; if we stick to the rooftops until we're behind the parade, they're less likely to see us."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Tony murmured. "Kids, you think you can manage that mo--" He shut up as they filed past; Mara, Akeja, and the other three children whose names he hadn't caught yet methodically started to file past, perfectly executing the same swing and jump that Laura herself had done.

Too perfectly, to Taskmaster's trained eye. "...What the hell?" They weren't doing something similar - they were mimicking Laura's moves perfectly. The way -he- was about to do. Keeping this detail to himself for now, he completed the little routine and landed on the roof with the others.

By now, Black Ant fully had the attention of the parade; some were laughing raucously, pointing and cheering him on. Others were attacking, small-time D-listers trying to make their name by taking down one of the bigger - literally - criminals of the massive underworld. As always, Bagalia was diverse in both its reactions and its populace. "He going to need help?" One of the children asked, a boy with a shock of blonde hair that nearly covered his whole head.

"Not our concern, Malakai," Akeja replied. "The idiot wants to do something good for once in his life? Let him. You know what he's done for money; he owes this to the world." 

"Ungrateful brats," Taskmaster snapped to Laura as he caught up to her. "You hearing this crap? Never did anything to them, but they're acting like Eric and I personally spat on their faces." He glanced sidelong at the child with the broken leg that she was carrying; he'd passed out awhile ago, thanks to the medicine that he'd been given most likely. 

"We aren't friends, Taskmaster. I'm here to help you with this one mission - and then we'll go right back to me arresting you for your many, many crimes." She cast him a casually cool look that he had to admit was rather terrifying, even as he fell into step beside her. "The only reason that I didn't last time is because I had more urgent matters to attend to helping my sisters."

"Yeah, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Tony replied, brushing off her promise of another fight. "Point is, those kids have a -grudge- against Eric and I; but we've never done a damn thing to them. Ain't that suspicious?"

"Maybe," Laura replied thoughtfully, stopping to look back at the gathered Scions, who were milling in a circle and speaking once more in their personal language. "I'm giving you this advice for the sake of the mission: keep it professional. Don't provoke them about it. If they -do- have reason to be upset with you, trying to pry it out of them is only going to make them resent you even more." Crouching down at the edge of the pharmacy roof, she looked out over the street below. It was total pandemonium; those who weren't focused on Black Ant were fighting amongst themselves, all too eager to take any opportunity to throw their weight about or attempt to kill an old rival. 

"So much for the sanctity of 'Bagalia Freedom Day', or whatever," Laura remarked wryly.

"Huh?" Tony stopped beside her, holding up a hand for the children to halt. "What do ya mean? This is exactly the spirit of the holiday. They're embracing what makes this nation-state great!" As far as he was concerned, it was beautiful. A bunch of dumbasses killing each other without an Avenger in sight to mess it up. 

Shaking her head in obvious disapproval, Laura peered over the side of the building. "Dumpsters here; we can use the trash to quiet our fall. Come on." And with that, she hopped off. Covering the rear, Tony waved the kids off the building, ignoring the glares from Akeja and Mara as they passed.

Well, 'ignoring' was a strong term for the fact he casually flipped them off in response. Warranted, as far as he saw it. Still, he was starting to see the exhaustion evident in the way they moved; they might have somehow been copying Laura, but they weren't in the kind of shape that she was. They were still tired, starved, and losing motivation by the second.

"Gotta wrap this up soon," he murmured to himself, following the last of the kids off of the edge of the roof."These kids ain't gonna last." 

Though they had to wait and waste some valuable time - time that Taskmaster could rather literally feel bleeding out of him - the chaos of the now-forgotten parade eventually allowed them to approach from behind. The tail end of the massive line of supervillains had exploded into a supernova of violence; by giving it a wide berth, the group was able to avoid it. At one point, it almost seemed like a group of costumed mooks that Taskmaster didn't recognize - all dressed like the individual parts of an American flag - were going to look their way...but Black Ant, catching sight of what was happening, came crashing through boot-first, kicking them out of way and scattering them like an exploding Fourth of July firework. "Hahaha! Look at me, I'm anti-colonialism!"

"That was the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Laura proclaimed when they finally managed to cross the avenue, disappearing into an old plaza that had stopped being used when a fallen statue of Baron Zemo had crushed the fountain in the center. "And I'm an X-Man."

"There's nothing more interesting than henchmen off the leash," Tony agreed. "Come on; Eric's not gonna be able to keep them distracted for much longer."

As they fled from the plaza towards the former headquarters of the Masters of Evil, a masked woman watched them from the rooftop. She'd completely ignored the chaos of the 'festival' below, her gaze never leaving the cloaked silhouette of the wounded Taskmaster.


	5. Secrets

The old Masters of Evil headquarters was still intact. It had not burned down, been bombed, or been swarmed by supervillains. There weren't even rats in the walls.

That was the totality of the good news.

Everything else, in summary, had completely gone to shit.

It was a ragged party that crossed the threshold of Baron Zemo's former home. Laura and Black Ant were leading the pack by now, as they were the only ones who weren't limping or nearly collapsing with exhaustion. Black Ant had caught up with the group shortly after shrinking down to escape the chaos that he had spawned during the Bagalia Freedom Festival, and it was a good thing, too; Akeja had silently collapsed a quarter mile from the gargantuan mansion, and the other children weren't faring much better. Carrying Akeja and Mara across his shoulders like a pair of sandbags, Eric had been uncharacteristically silent as they stopped in the dank foyer of the abandoned building. "Amazing no one's taken this place over yet," he finally said.

"They've been trying." Taskmaster was favoring his wounded rib a bit more now; without time to rest and with the increasingly desperate pace that they had set to finish out their journey, he was in a good deal of pain himself. "I hadn't decided what to do with the place, so I've been letting ol' Tessie clear them out to keep her weapons in good shape. An idling warbot is..." He trailed off; he couldn't even finish the joke. The spot where Laura had stabbed him was throbbing in the way only an adamantium blade could, the same way it had when she'd gored his hand a year back. It was like every nerve had been cut in half with molecular precision. Pulling off his dirty cloak and setting it into a pile against the wall, he collapsed against it. "Role call..."

Laura, whose healing factor at least allowed her to remain in peak shape, set Malakai down on a huge old Corinthian leather couch. "Everyone's here. I've been keeping track. You don't look so good, Taskmaster."

"No shit? Maybe it's because you fucking stabbed me." He wasn't mad about it. Really. 

"I'm not going to feel guilty about that," Laura replied, her ears visibly burning. "You had done nothing to warrant the benefit of the doubt, and you left Black Ant behind to ambush me."

"I left him behind to ambush the person -stalking- us," Tony countered. "How was I supposed to know it was you? How long had you even been following us, anyways? Didn't you see us -helping- the fucking kids?" Tony closed his eyes behind his mask, even as he argued. To Laura, it still looked like the ghoulish visage was staring her down. 

"...Truth be told, yes. But from where I was, it just looked like you were fighting over them -- and you did crash their vehicle." 

Tony could tell that she didn't like when she had to try and get a bead on how he was feeling. The man's airtight costume blocked his scent from her, and he could alter his body language whenever he liked; it was one of his most useful skills, the kind that wasn't as obvious to people as other applications of his photographic reflexes. 

"Well, whatever," Tony replied with a grunt. "The Hub's agent ain't here and I need to sleep, alright? Wake me up when they arrive -- I think we could all use a little rest."

"I don't think we should..." Laura pursed her lips and stopped when she heard the crinkling of a wrapper behind her. Eric had finally found use for his remaining honey buns he'd swiped earlier. He was passing them out to the assorted Scions, who had piled together on the couch in the living room. While Akeja had gone right to sleep, the others' hunger had won out - they voraciously assaulted the treats with the kind of shamelessness only starvation could inspire. "...Yeah, alright. Only for awhile though, Masters." She turned around and headed towards the kitchen with that, likely to look for more food for the children.

Tony watched her go, but before she'd even made it out of the living room, the mercenary had passed out. He dreamed of the Scion children.

\--

He was in the middle of some kind of nightmare in which all six of the children were surrounding him, throwing accusations that he couldn't understand in their unique language. He wasn't quite sure exactly when he woke up, because when he did, the children were arguing loudly in that same tongue. 

"Hey, hey!" Eric called out. "Come on, people are trying to sleep here -- namely my very ill-tempered partner." 

"Fuck you, Man of Ants!" Shouted the sixth child that Tony had never heard speak yet, and now it was evident why; a girl with red hair and a deeply thick brogue, she was barely understandable even when trying her best. "Y'think ginna scrap o'fud makeus even?! Not a'er what you did, nay, him neither!" 

What him and Eric did...? Taskmaster didn't move from where he was, kept his breathing slow. His perfect control of his body's actions came in handy here -- especially when Laura joined the conversation, returning to the living room to figure out what the big screaming match was about. "What's going on? What -did- you two do, O'Grady...?"

"It's none of your business, Wolverine." Eric's voice was surprisingly serious, more harsh than almost any time that Tony had heard it before. "If these brats really want to tell you, I can't stop them; but I'm not turning on him like that."

There was a pause. Tony opened his eyes, opting to keep his mask's optics dimmed in the process; all part of how he could easily pretend that he wasn't paying attention, even to Wolverine's highly enhanced senses. Laura was pacing, glancing to the gathered children and then stopping before Eric. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this one way or the other, but I'm curious; why -do- you do this, O'Grady?"

"What do you mean?" He snapped back defensively.

"Why do you follow Taskmaster? I've seen your relationship. You call yourself his partner, but he treats you more like a sidekick. You were an Avenger once; you were a hero, even if you had your problems. Why follow a jerk like Masters?"

Clearly trying to deflect, Black Ant turned away from her. "Keep your voice down, huh? You're gonna wake him up."

"He's completely passed out. I'd be able to hear it if he was up."

Realizing he wasn't going to get out of this, Black Ant hesitated, then explained, "Look...you don't know him like I do. I -don't- follow Taskmaster."

"But--"

"--Stop. You want to know? Then let me talk." Eric stepped forward, accusingly prodding her in the chest. "I don't follow Taskmaster, I follow -Tony-. Even when he trained me back with the Initiative, I could tell something was different about him compared to other supervillains. He -got- what it was like, you know? To want to do one thing, but to feel drawn to another. Then, when I was with the Secret Avengers, I found out about everything...his memory problems. His -wife-."

"He's got a WIFE?" Laura nearly shouted, then covered her mouth. Taskmaster's breath nearly hitched, giving him away. It took all of his self-control to maintain the illusion that he was asleep, doubly so when Eric turned to look his way.

"Yeah, he does; and he doesn't even know it. It's The Hub. You know, the lady who's supposed to be sending our fucking -help-? The way his powers work, every time he copies someone new, like he did to get your stupid foot claws, he loses everything else. As far as most people are concerned, Taskmaster's all that's left; the mercenary, the guy who will kidnap anyone or fight anyone for hire; but when you work with him like I do, you -see- him every day...it becomes obvious that ain't the case."

"Bullshit," Maya snapped, sounding wounded.

"...It's true," Eric insisted. "Look, don't get me wrong! Tony -- not Taskmaster -- isn't a saint. I'm not saying he's some kind of heroic good guy underneath it all. But you don't realize how -easy- he goes on you fucking people," the mercenary accused, glaring at Laura as he started to anxiously pace in a circle. "Did you know that? He'd rather let himself get stabbed through the hand than actually risk really hurting you, because even though -he- doesn't understand it...this is self-flagellation. He's punishing himself every time he takes a job, and his fucking wife LETS him! He doesn't know any better! He's in...factory settings, as he calls it!" 

Falling silent for a moment, Laura pressed her hand to her mouth in thought. When she finally responded, her tone was somber and disbelieving in equal measure. She wasn't buying this at all. "So, what. You're saying he wasn't -trying- when he attacked my sisters and I? He shot them in the head!"

"No, I'm saying that he was trying -- to commit suicide by superhero. Look...I've seen him when pressed, okay? He does -not- go down easy, and there's a reason that he's actually feared so much in Bagalia. He doesn't half-ass it here; you piss him off, you're dead. You do something he finds distasteful, you're dead. If you were watching us, you saw how we shut down that Jason Waterfalls jerkoff. He'd never fight like that against you, against Spider-Man, against any of you 'hero' types." Slumping down onto the couch, planting his palms against either side of his helmet, Eric took it off. A mess of unruly red hair, a to-the-atom perfect replica of the appearance of his original body. Tony knew that he'd often questioned if he was the 'real' Eric, or some kind of facsimile created in his image. Tony had always argued the former, maybe against his better senses. He just wasn't sure that he himself liked the alternative. Was that selfish? He considered it before focusing his attention on his partner's continued speaking.

"I've seen him pin his boot to Captain America's face. He had him dead to rights. But when the time came, he didn't finish the job, even though he could have. And if you corner him about it, he'll claim it's because he doesn't want the 'heat', or he'll make excuses, but when it really comes down to it..." Eric looked up at Laura; Taskmaster was too far away to see his expression, but his tone gave away everything that he needed to know. "...That's Tony in there, under The Taskmaster. People don't see Tony, he hides it so well. They see that stupid fucking costume, that ridiculous cape...and a grim echo of the guy I know who taught me; who's ignored every rule he sets for himself for my sake."

"Why, though?" Laura asked, sounding skeptical. "It's easy for you to make these claims, but have you ever considered that he's lying to you? That he's just pathetic and lonely, and keeps you around so he has control over someone?"

"Shut the hell up," Eric snapped back at her, nearly rising. "I'm not the only one who knows this. He'll pretend he's forgotten, but Cap does, too; can you believe Taskmaster still admires him? Hell, have you ever even SEEN him copy a supervillain's moves? I've seen him throw like Bullseye, like...once. But day in, day out? It's Rogers. Daredevil. Black Knight. Hawkeye. -You-. And you wanna tell me he's faking it, when he tries to be like you on a level even he doesn't realize?"

Laura looked ready to bite back, to respond to Eric's accusatory tone, but after a moment she simply stopped walking around and regarded the children. While they still looked annoyed, still seemed ready to argue with Eric, they'd all shifted to listening intently. For some reason that Tony couldn't fathom, they were invested in this. What did Black Ant know? What wasn't he telling him?

"He wants to be the best, and I don't just mean at fighting. Every time, before he forgets, he becomes a little more like you, a little less like Taskmaster," Eric murmured, barely loud enough for Taskmaster to hear. "And then he goes back to it, gets his next job; but I'm not stupid. I've been watching people who were better than me my whole life. When he -really- has a reason to fight, you can almost see Tony in there, like a reflection in a lake. And then he has to copy someone new, or gets pushed further than his mind can take, and --" He mimicked a popping sound with his finger in his mouth. "...The next pebble drops, and it's gone."

The room fell silent for a little while, interrupted only by the sounds of the Scions grabbing the food that Laura had brought them on a tray and starting to dig into it. Looking conflicted, Wolverine finally threw her hands up. "So, what? You're saying that I should trust him? That he's 'not so bad'?"

"No," Eric replied coolly, putting his helmet back on. "I'm saying that I'm keeping my cards to my chest for a reason, and that I'm not telling you about what happened with these kids for the same reason I'm not telling -him-. Like I said, if they want to share? I can't stop them; but you won't understand why things went down like they did. What I will tell you is this: You need Taskmaster to save these children. Even they know it; it's the only reason they haven't ratted us out already. And if he finds out what he did...he's gonna run. He'll snap, he'll disappear, and then we're all fucked." 

"He can barely move. He's hardly going to carry this team." Laura's tone wasn't proud, just factual. 

"I'm not talking about fighting," Eric replied vaguely. "Just...don't trust me, okay? I don't give a shit. I don't even like you, Logan had better hair. Talk to the kids if you want, but I'm done explaining myself." He started past her, only for the smaller woman to plant a palm on his chest.

"This isn't finished, O'Grady," Laura warned. "Not by a long shot."

"I know," he responded, "...And I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn. Your hair is -amazing-." Taskmaster couldn't see them anymore, but he heard the distinct sound of Eric attempting to lean in and smell her -- and Laura punching him in the stomach. 

After that, the group scattered. The Hub's agent -- the agent of his wife, Tony forced himself to try and internalize without much success -- was still not here, and everyone was occupying the time they were forced to wait differently. Eric was playing on his phone, Laura checked on the Scions and then went to explore the enormous mansion, and the Scions huddled together, finally well-fed and trying to catch up on their immense lack of sleep.

For his part, Taskmaster had a lot to think about now. Waiting another half hour or so before 'waking up', he finally rose and staggered out of the living room, heading for the armory. When he'd been working as Zemo's prison warden, he had stashed some equipment here, including of the medical variety. He could patch himself up a little better, get fighting fit again. 

He'd barely opened the door of the safehouse and stepped inside when he heard footsteps approaching; small and quick. Grabbing a kit full of strange syringes, his personal supply of advanced first aid from his on-staff scientist Albino, Taskmaster turned in time to see one of the Scions approaching. It was the last he didn't recognize, all fire-colored hair and intense features that he quickly recognized as a strange mixture of Chinese and Scottish. 

Tears in her eyes, she stepped forward, fearlessly grabbing for the first weapon she could find - a Desert Eagle, already loaded for haste's sake in case of emergency, barrel pointing straight at Taskmaster's forehead. When she finally spoke, it was through tears. "D'ye really not remember what ya did to us?" She asked him accusingly.

He didn't know how to answer.


	6. Wrecked

Standing in the safe room of Zemo's old Masters of Evil headquarters, Taskmaster stared down the barrel of a loaded pistol. Held in the hands of a nine-year-old girl with tears in her eyes, a gun had never been so threatening as it was now; not because of how he feared she might use it, but because he didn't know how far he was willing to go to stop her.

"Put the gun down, kid. I get yer pissed off -- but that's the last time to be holding one o'those."

"What? Afraid I dinnae remember how ta use it? Ya oughta have more faith, considerin' ya taught me." She snarled out those last three words like a slur, but what she was said was obviously true. Compensating for her small size and the weapon's kick, she was holding the pistol exactly right - wide stance, both hands in place, the sights aligned perfectly with her eyes - which were shockingly intense, black as beetle shells and just as hard. 

"That so?" He replied coolly, trying not to let her see the anxiety that was coursing through him. If this theory was right - if these kids had the same photographic reflexes as Tony himself - then she'd be able to read his body language as easily as he read everyone else's; he couldn't lie to her or hide his feelings without doing so absolutely perfectly. "Yeah, I'll be honest...I don't even recognize you." Within every good deception was a hint of truth, so he started with that. It was important - because what he wanted to hide was that he overheard the whole conversation between Black Ant and Wolverine. "...What made you realize I don't remember you, then?"

Eyeing him suspiciously for a long moment, only lowering the pistol slightly, the girl took a deep breath. "That idiot partner o'yers dinnae when to shut up. Can't believe this. Been so angry at you...and ya dun ken what ye even did." Still, she didn't drop the gun entirely yet; there was more to this. "...I'm Cassandra. I was - am? - a student of yers. Before ya --"

Before she could finish, however, the entire building shook -- a massive crack splitting the air as the mercenary was nearly thrown off his feet.

For her part, Cassandra recovered remarkably well. Though she fell back against the wall of the armory hard, she didn't relinquish the pistol, planting one foot and grabbing the wall in a nimble move Taskmaster recognized as one of the Winter Soldier's. Either the Red Room had a lot to answer for, or she really had been taught by him. Neither possibility appealed to him, but the quake had more of his attention. "The hell was that?" Hastily grabbing a large syringe out of his first aid kit, he tapped it once and drove it into his arm. Inside was an experimental serum designed by Albino, Taskmaster's on-staff scientist who specialized in helping him close the gap between himself and the superhumans he often had to face. While he typically preferred to keep things purely skill-based, some jobs just demanded you bring out the heavy guns. These particular serums were created as an improvement of the Regenix that was meant to copy Wolverine's healing factor. While not nearly as fast as that, it was also a lot more stable than Regenix, which had a nasty habit of organ failure in its subject.

Already, the pain was starting to fade - it'd be a few hours before he was back to true fighting shape, though. 

"Dinnae," Cassandra replied bluntly. "One o'yer many mistakes?" 

"Har har. Let's go check on the others." 

Leading the snappy little redhead out towards the living room of the mansion, Tony just barely ducked in time to avoid an enormous wrecking ball aimed directly for his face. "What the hell?"

Unsurprisingly, it was being held by a member of the Wrecking Crew themselves, who were currently in heated combat with Wolverine and Black Ant. "Tasky!" Eric shouted. "They're here for the kids! They're the ones who got hired to bring them back!"

"Hired by who?" Taskmaster snapped, lifting his shield just in time to intercept an oncoming crowbar from Wrecker. Even with the vibranium of his shield, he was nearly thrown off his feet, throwing his arm up high to dissipate some of the force. "Damn...zeroed in on me real fast, huh?"

"None of your business who hired us. All you gotta know is you're priority target, traitor! Eight figures on that ugly mask of yours!" Wrecker barked. Despite his great bulk, he was quick on his feet; no sooner had Taskmaster deflected that blow than another one rained down onto his head. Ducking to the side, pirouetting in a Captain America classic afterwards, Tony snarled and drew his sword, sweeping it across the man's back in a single stroke. It was only because he could feel the blade barely break the skin that he reacted in time to avoid the counter-swing from Wrecker's crowbar, anticipating it when he realized he wasn't really hurting the man. Damn tough idiots, he thought to himself.

Wolverine and Black Ant were similarly occupied. Demolisher, her enormous steel ball gleaming even in the dim light of the living room's chandelier, relentlessly swung after Black Ant, who shrank and dove between her legs before growing back to his normal size and kicking her in the back. "Hey! Why didn't you go after Wolverine? This could have been prime girl on girl action!"

"You're disgusting," Laura snarled, leaping over Piledriver as the blonde man attempted to crush her with a superhuman punch, she deftly swiped her claws across Bulldozer's face. His helmet, empowered much like the rest of the group by the Asgardian magic that gave them their powers, mostly absorbed the strike -- but the sparks that it created blinded him, causing him to crash into Piledriver in a running tackle. "They might be strong and tough, but the Wrecking Crew are morons to a man - or woman. As long as we don't let them surround us, we can hold them off!"

"We're already surrounded; they outnumber us," Black Ant complained, narrowly shrinking in time to avoid a thrown chair.

"No we're not," Taskmaster replied coolly. With his focus on Wrecker, he could easily avoid his attacks; while the man was strong and nearly indestructible, he had nowhere near the skill or agility to lay a hand on Tony as the skull-masked mercenary alternated between Spider-Man and Daredevil's moves, pirouetting and ducking as he slapped a button hidden on his belt under his cloak. "You boys are messing up my new -house-. I don't think the housekeeper's gonna care for that too much."

"The hell are you on about, Taskmaster?" Wolverine asked, but he didn't need to answer her; she found out herself a moment later.

Thirty thousand pounds of adamantium came CRASHING through the ceiling; called by the signal on Taskmaster's belt, the gargantuan robot landed with a ground-shaking quake. Twenty feet tall at full height, the otherwise dark-grey automaton was dressed in a giant-sized french maid costume, swinging a massive dusting brush hard enough to send Piledriver flying back and into the wall, unconscious.

"Cleaning time, you roid-raging D-listers!" Tony cheered. 

"What the..." Laura trailed off, looking somewhere between exasperated and amused. Black Ant, for his part, nearly got his head taken off by a backhand from Demolisher because he had burst into laughter hard enough to nearly fall over. Still, despite the silly costume, no one could doubt TESS-one's effectiveness; pulling back from Taskmaster out of frustration that he couldn't hit him, Wrecker went after the robot instead. "Just a machine! WRECK IT!" He roared, hauling off with a swing that could knock Thor for a loop. The pure adamantium plating of Tess's armor didn't so much as dent, and before he could wipe the surprise off his face, Wrecker was spiked into the ground by an enormous overhand swat. 

"Damn thing's indestructible!" Piledriver exclaimed. "We gotta fall back! Between this and Wolverine, we're outmatched!"

"And Black Ant!" Eric insisted, shouting with both hands cupped over his helmet as the Wrecking Crew started to retreat. 

"Nope!" Demolisher called out before disappearing through the same hole she'd made in the wall of the mansion. Still trying to fend off a viciously angry Laura slicing and kicking at their heels, the rest of the group followed after her. "This ain't over!" Wrecker shouted. "You got no idea what world of shit you got yourself into stealing those brats, Taskmaster!" 

Placing his hands on his thighs, exhaling from behind his mask, Tony considered that. "Kids are all okay?" 

Laura nodded matter-of-factly. "Black Ant's gone to get them," she said, nodding to the other mercenary who was making his way towards the stairs. "I heard the Wrecking Crew approaching in time to get them all to a safe room on the second floor -- except Cassandra. I didn't want to interrupt you, and..." She trailed off, looking annoyed at nothing in particular.

For a moment, Taskmaster couldn't figure out why; then he suddenly laughed out loud. "Hah! You trusted ME to protect her! Admit it!"

"...Your dedication to this mission so far has been -acceptable-," she stubbornly conceded. "Why is your robot dressed like a maid? It's not a sex thing, is it? Please don't let it be a sex thing."

"Of course not. Tessie's too pure for all that. She's saving herself for marriage." Tony made his way over to the idling automaton, patting it on the side. "Aincha, girl?"

"Hilarious," came a new voice. "If you two are done discussing fetishization of Taskmaster's pet robot, you should know that you aren't out of danger yet." Wolverine and Taskmaster both immediately set themselves into defensive positions as a masked woman in a skintight blue costumed stepped silently through the hole in the wall, a hooded black coat with yellow trim adding a severity to her otherwise sleek look. 

"Who the hell are you?" Tony snapped, lifting his sword warily.

"...I'm the new Spymaster," she replied coolly, placing a hand on her hip. As her coat shifted back a little, Taskmaster could see a futuristic-looking pistol on her belt; some kind of energy weapon. "The Hub sent me. I'm supposed to help you extract a bunch of kids? If that's true, we need to hurry."

"We've been hurrying all night," Wolverine assured her. "You, however, took your sweet time getting here. Are you sure we can trust her, Taskmaster? I can't get a read on her at all - her smell's blocked, voice modulated...even more than yours."

Tony considered that, but ultimately nodded. "If she's here from The Hub, she's trustworthy. Besides, there's no one that the three of us can't take down together if she -does- try some bullshit."

"Finally, I'm being included!" Eric interjected as he descended the steps, the children in tow. Cassandra had joined them some time during the battle, wisely seeking out her fellow Scions instead of trying to get involved. 

"...Yeah!" Tony replied, opting not to tell him that he was referring to TESS-one.

"Hey, who's she?" Eric asked of the newcomer. 

Hub's agent. Black Ant, this is Spymistress--"

"Spymaster," she quickly corrected.

"...Spymaster, which is confusing but hey, it's a brave new world. She's gonna see to our extraction. Wolverine's got a point. What took you so long?" Taskmaster couldn't help but nurse a feeling of familiarity, despite having definitely never met this new Spymaster in his life. He'd trained the last one, sure - but that guy had died years ago. "...And do I know you? Did I train ya?"

"In a sense," she replied. "Hub warned me your brain was a bit soft, though she put it nicer. Let it suffice that I know how to handle myself, and you're to blame." Her wry tone, with the help of her voice modulator, almost held a hint of sincere irritation at the question, but Tony didn't miss that little detail. Not entirely. "As for the delay, The Hub decided it would be pragmatic for me to investigate this matter to make use of how to successfully extract the children. I've been following the Wrecking Crew for hours; I've got a cloaked quinjet on the roof, but you need to know something first. I placed a tracker on Piledriver. They're going to leave Bagalia, try to get in contact with their employer. You have to intercept them." 

Exchanging a look with Taskmaster, Laura was the first to ask, "...And do you know who their employer is?"

Lifting her phone, Spymaster turned it around and used a hidden device on the back to project a holographic image, tossing the chip she extracted from the phone on the ground. The image was impressively high-resolution; so much so that Tony could count the strands on the moustache of the face displayed.

"You gotta be kidding me," he growled, barely above a whisper.

"I'm deadly serious," Spymaster assured them all, looking between Taskmaster, Wolverine, and Black Ant. "These children are considered property of the United States government, and the Wrecking Crew was just the first wave. I managed to jam their comms, but if they manage to get too far out of the city, you're going to have hell brought down on your heads. Now get the kids ready and let's go. Clock's ticking."

She turned to the children, who warily ducked behind Black Ant with surprising speed. Her body language softened immediately, her professional demeanor disappearing even with her mask on. 

Taskmaster didn't see it. He was still staring at the projected hologram of General Thunderbolt Ross.


	7. Play The Fools

As the ragtag party of children and their eclectic assortment of guardians climbed the stairs leading to the roof of the old Masters of Evil mansion, Wolverine was starting up a conversation with Akeja, who had been openly admiring her fighting style and claws all night. Eric, somehow, had become the favorite of almost all of the other kids; the Scions were warming up to him, whatever crime that Mara claimed that he and Taskmaster had committed against them all but forgotten as they asked him about what it was like to shrink, how it felt to be a giant, and if any of them would ever be twenty feet tall.

"Maybe!" Eric replied. "I've seen crazier things." He was clearly enjoying the attention, carrying the wounded boy whose name Tony had already lost across his shoulder like a sandbag, yet even taking the time to ensure his broken leg wasn't bouncing around. He was clearly enjoying the positive attention, and Taskmaster didn't blame him; there wasn't a whole lot of that in Bagalia. 

For his part, though? Tony wasn't taking his eyes off of Spymaster, and it wasn't just because she had a sweet can (she did). He wondered if she knew, like Black Ant seemed to, that The Hub was apparently his wife. How common was this? Was it even a secret, or were they all laughing behind his back? Resisting the urge to corner Eric about it right this moment - not the time - Tony glanced back over his shoulder. The only one of the children who wasn't with the rest of the group was Cassandra, who was watching him as intently as he was Spymaster.

"What?"

"Waiting for ya tae run away."

"Very funny, and not happening," he scolded her.

"Did last time."

Not having a response to that, he fell silent until they reached the helipad. With a button on her wrist, Spymaster de-cloaked the quinjet that she had waiting for them; sleek and black, it looked to Taskmaster like a stolen SHIELD prototype; he could even get a sense of the missing markings on the wings. "You appropriate this yourself?" He asked curiously.

"Maybe. Not like SHIELD's intact anymore, what use is it sitting in some hanger?"

"I'm sure Uncle Sam would find use for it."

"Considering our current situation, I don't really give a fuck what Uncle Sam finds a use for," she replied harshly. "You've been thinking about what I told you, right?" Opening the kamikaze door of the quinjet, she started gesturing the children closer. To Tony's surprise, Mara stopped in front of him. 

"You think we should go with her?"

"I think so, yeah." He didn't hesitate; it seemed clear enough.

"...You're a weird guy, Taskmaster. I mean, the costume really gave it away, but...I hope you understand that what's coming next for you isn't your fault. That doesn't mean you can't take responsibility for it, though." The way she stared up at him as she spoke took the witty retort right out of Tony's throat. He lingered for a moment, watching this strange little child with the wisdom that she had no business displaying like this, before she turned and promptly boarded the quinjet.

When Taskmaster and Eric went to follow, Spymaster stopped in front of the both of them. "We need to split up. Taskmaster, I have a location for you to go after Ross. He's going to send an extensive force after both of us; he's almost as angry at you as he is eager to get the kids."

"Now hold up a minute, lady," Taskmaster complained. "WHY? What the hell did I actually -do-?" 

"I don't have time to explain, and a short version will just make you more curious," Spymaster replied. Before he could speak again, she cut him off by grabbing hold of Eric by the collar. "You and Wolverine are with me. Need your abilities, and the kids like you more." Laura didn't protest; it was obvious that she was always going to 

"Yeah!" Black Ant cheered, hopping on board the quinjet. "Hear that, Tony? I'm the MvP."

"No, that's TESS-one, but she's too heavy for the plane," Spymaster assured him. As Eric slumped his shoulders, she brought the rest of the children aboard and turned her attention to Taskmaster. "Masters, this is important: You're going to find out what happened here soon. I -promise-. But trust me, because this comes straight from the Hub: You can't know until the children are safe. She asked me to relay that, and for you to keep believing she has your best interests in mind -- because she does." Ensuring that all the children were on the quinjet, Spymaster climbed on as well, grabbing the sliding door to start closing it until she was stopped by Taskmaster's harsh words.

"If she cares so much, why the hell hasn't she told me she's my WIFE?!" he snapped.

Glancing back at him, somehow sounding sad even through her voice scrambler, Spymaster shook her head. "...Oh, Tony. She has."

And then they were gone. 

Standing there in the midst of a warm Bagalia night, clear skies offering a lovely view of stars that he had no interest in seeing, Taskmaster took a moment to collect himself. The violence and hedonism of his current lifestyle was effective at drowning it out, but in quiet moments like this, he could feel it; a deeper guilt, a hungry and gnawing void of self-loathing that threatened to consume him if he didn't feed it. 

'Why do you think he takes these jobs?'

By the time he opened his eyes, the quinjet was gone. No Spymaster, no Wolverine, no Black Ant. He tried to reassure himself that this was a good thing. He worked better alone anyways, and the kids needed the backup the most. 

"At least I got you, Tessie." He looked up to the gargantuan adamantium robot, who was still dressed like a twenty foot french maid. It was dusting the roof.

\--

Taskmaster's mission, ultimately, was simple: he just had to follow the Wrecking Crew. Doing so with Tessie as his backup would be easier said than done, considering that even with the robot's prototype flight technology, it was still something of a massive and loud target. Instead assigning it to follow at a distance, he descended into the garage of the old Masters of Evil headquarters, heading for the vehicle bay that he'd had installed shortly after he had taken over. As tempting as his over-designed blue-and-orange motorcycle was, he needed to take a different approach; even idiots like the Wrecking Crew would know when they were being followed, if only because Ross was likely reminding them to check.

True to Spymaster's assessment, they were clearly hustling to get out of the city. The tracker she'd given him displayed them as making a beeline for the Marina; they were rapidly navigating the city's dense streets with superhuman jumps from the way the display 'bounced'. Considering his options, Taskmaster eventually left the garage not in one of his well-armored war wagons, but a simple and sleek black ferrari. This would require a different kind of approach.

\--

Piledriver grumbled as he approached the marina's reception center; this place was pretty damn high security, which was unsurprising considering what kind of goods Bagalia both imported and exported. Checkpoint, checkpoint, ID card reader, ticket salesman, weird demon that only spoke backwards, checkpoint -- but after nearly half an hour, he was finally through and had passes for each of the rest of the Wrecking Crew. "You wouldn't believe the fucking wait out here," he grumbled as he started handing the entry badges to his companions. "Come on."

By the time he'd gone back to get the rest of the crew and headed into the marina, Piledriver could tell that something was amiss. "We're in Dock 3...wait. Whose is -that-?" What should have been their empty spot was occupied by an enormous and garish yacht, white and blue with a massive statue of a posing siren on the front. 

"What an ugly piece of shit," Wrecker grunted. "Hey! Who the hell's in our spot?! We got a ride coming! You gotta move!"

"Tally HO there, friends!" Came a booming voice. Emerging from the deck of the yacht, a thin and older-looking man planted his hands on the rails. "Say I parked in your spot, eh? Didn't mean to! I've been making this my 'marina marination' center for the past ten years, though, ha ha! Didn't think they'd rent it out to anyone else!"

Exchanging looks with each other, the Wrecking Crew shook their heads before Piledriver spoke back up. "Hey, idiot! We ain't here to chat about it! Just move your ugly fucking ship unless you want us to destroy it!"

"Oh, I sure don't want that! Let me just come on out of here...." He started towards the steps.

"Don't come out here!" Wrecker complained. "Just -- just move, man! We're not kidding!" He sighed in frustration when the elderly gentleman ignored them entirely, making his way out from the yacht onto the ship and approaching the four supervillains with oblivious cheerfulness.

"Well now, I'd be remiss not to shake your hands for the warning first! No need to rush, no sir...name's Art Vanderbilt! Don't know art, never built a van, but I stand behind the nom de guerre nonetheless! You all attending a costume party, then? Why wait for your vessel? You should ride with me instead! The Painted Pomegranate's a class act of a ship, yes sir; once made it around the coast of Somalia in only four days!" He boasted.

"...That don't sound very fast, old timer," Bulldozer chimed in. "Look, you seem pretty nice, and we ain't in the business of beatin' up random old people, but you really got to go. Our ride's gonna be here any minute."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll see me and wait their turn!" The gent replied, dismissively waving a hand. "Come, come, you'll love the Pomegranate! Sweet as her namesake, and twice as juicy! You may be asking how a ship can be juicy, but no sir, I won't spoil the mystery! You'll just have to find out for yourselves!" Whirling a ruby-headed cane, he started back towards the yacht. Wrecker raised his weapon, eyes bulging with rage, but Piledriver stopped him with a hand. 

"Wait. This old coot's clearly lost his damn mind," Piledriver whispered. "We follow him aboard, maybe we can rob that ship before we sink it. We got time before Ross shows up."

His irritation giving way to a smile, Wrecker nodded in agreement. "Best idea you've had all day. I could use some cheering up after that hide-tanning we got back at Zemo's. Come on, then. We'll knock him out when we get on board, then loot to our heart's content."

All feeling very smug, the Wrecking Crew boarded the yacht behind Art. 

"This here's the deck, where I like to play shuffleboard with the missus," the elderly man droned on as they circled around towards the cabin. "Are you gents and ladies feeling parched? I've got a 1912 Vermouth that you wouldn't believe; goes down smoother than my morning medication, that's for sure!" 

"I could use a drink," Demolisher eagerly replied. "You hear that, -gents-? I'm a lady. No one ever calls me a lady; I think I like this old guy!"

"Oh, I like you too!" Art replied, opening the door to the cabin. "Remind me of my daughter; professional weightlifter. Built sturdy like yourself." As they all filed into the luxurious room, with leather seats and a large navigator's table that seemed to meticulously track the location of every brothel between Bagalia and California, the garishly dressed elderly man retrieved a large bottle and five glasses, pouring each halfway full and passing them around.

"Classy place," Wrecker complimented, his eyes already roaming over an expensive-looking statue above the steering wheel. "All these trinkets must cost a fortune."

"Oh, you'd best believe it! Never settle for less than the best; that's what father always taught me," Art replied. "Four million dollars worth of furnishings in here alone!" He didn't seem to notice the greedy smiles traded by the Wrecking Crew at that. Raising his glass, Art toasted the group, then took a deep draw. Everyone else did as well, with only Piledriver hesitating briefly to make sure that the old man was actually swallowing his. Figuring that meant it was safe, he drained his glass.

"Wow, that's good stuff," Demolisher complimented. "I had my doubts considering this ugly ship, but you've got decent taste, grandpa."

"Thank you!" Art puffed out his chest happily.

"Shame we're gonna have to take it all from ya," Piledriver said ominously. "You offered us a ride - think we're gonna take it. This vessel's ours now. You gave us a drink, so if you ask real nice, we'll let you off without any broken...broken..." Mumbling a bit, the man touched his tongue. "...Ith numb...my tongue numb." 

"Hey...yeah...I don't -- I don't feel good," Wrecker grunted, blinking rapidly. "Old...old bastard poisoned us. You son of a--" He took a swipe at the elderly man, but with surprising quickness, Art simply ducked back, smiling innocently.

"Oh my...has the wine gone bad?" He took a sniff, then sipped it. "No, seems good to me."

Collapsing against the table, Piledriver watched the rest of the Wrecking Crew start to go down. Demolisher sat heavily in the captain's chair, already unconscious; Bulldozer was trying to make himself throw up, but faceplanted before he could. "How...?" Piledriver asked. "I saw you...saw you drink."

"Sure did, slick. Didn't poison the wine. Like I said...it's fine." Dropping his disguise, the impression of an old, frail man giving way to the skull-masked visage of the Taskmaster, their host threw his head back and drained half the bottle in a single go, belching as Piledriver lost consciousness.

"It was your glasses. I told you D-listers not to fuck with me." 

It had been about four years ago that Taskmaster had come up with the 'Art' persona. From body language to facial expressions, his photographic reflexes allowed him to impersonate just about anyone and anything he could physically copy; what most people didn't realize was that this allowed him to take on other identities. From the accent to the walk, he could become someone else entirely at the drop of the hat. With his image inducer, the design of which he'd been improving every year since the first time he'd picked it up, he could even alter how he felt or how much he seemed to weigh; it was amazing what you could accomplish with enough stolen Stark tech and a willingness to get your hands dirty with it.

Vanderbilt, specifically, was known as a bit of a ponce around these parts; that was just how Tony liked it. If there was one lesson that Taskmaster had taken from Deadpool - not that he would ever admit it to the lasagna-faced bastard - it was that people were inclined not to take you as seriously if you acted like a complete fucking idiot all the time. 'Art' was as close to Wade as Tony would ever act, and that was an act of great pain for him -- but the mission demanded it this time, and the Crew had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker; not that he'd ever consider fooling these morons a real achievement. 

Crouching down to dig through Wrecker's pockets, he retrieved the tracker that Spymaster had placed and then swiped his cell phone, checking for text messages. Nothing. "Damn How am I supposed to know when Ross is comin--" He didn't even finish the thought before the yacht began to shake. "What the fuck?" He glanced out of the window; waves were rising far too fast to be natural, and nearly six other vessels, spaced out as far as half a mile away, were starting to capsize as if something under the surface was lashing out at them from below.

He knew better than to stick around; no sooner had the floorboards began to crack and snap than Taskmaster dove out the cabin window onto the deck, then sprang over the railing back towards the dock. His haste saved his life, as he'd barely made it in time to avoid an enormous metal form crashing through the edge of the walkway and through his very expensive, very nice Painted Pomegranate. In place of the wrecked ship, torn apart like so much paper, was a gargantuan nuclear submarine, pitch-black and twice again the size of an aircraft carrier, the likes of which Tony had never seen before.

Yet something about it felt incredibly familiar.


	8. Submission

The submarine was completely unmarked. No flag. No sigil at all revealing its loyalty. Ironically, these were all the details that Taskmaster needed to be sure that this was another one of Thunderbolt Ross's little projects. The old man had always been as secretive as he was brutal, and this reeked of his style. Without hesitation, Taskmaster drew his sword and shield and started towards the looming colossus of steel before him. "Ross! I know that's you, ya overgrown son of a walrus. Come on out of yer big metal cock and face me!"

Tony had to admit, he was a little surprised when the hatch swung open, its silence in doing so a testament to how well-maintained the submersible was. Rivulets of water continued pouring off the sides of the vessel, its hull extending so far that Taskmaster literally couldn't see past it. After a few seconds that felt like much longer, a large older man with an aggressive moustache and round face climbed the ladder out to stand on the hull. That was him -- Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross, perpetual thorn in the side of the Hulk in the distant past. These days, he seemed to have his fingers in just about every pie that you could imagine, from working alongside Captain America to forming his ridiculous Thunderbolts squads to do his dirty work for him. Briefly, Taskmaster wondered if the Wrecking Crew were supposed to be Thunderbolts; ultimately, he decided it didn't matter. They had hopefully drowned by now, every last one of them.

Tony wasn't in the kindest mood, which made Ross's first words all the more effective.

"Tony Masters," the older man called out coolly. "Amazing to see you walking -towards- a fight for once. I don't see the Scions with you, so I suppose this isn't the apology that you owe me."

"I don't owe you shit, Grandpa Genocide," Taskmaster snapped. "I dunno what all this is about, but those kids're safe. The hell is wrong with you, Thaddeus? This is low, even for you; and that's sayin' something for a man who works with Zemo for -free-."

Undaunted, Ross took off his glasses and started to wipe them clean. "It's true, then; you really do have amnesia. I thought Fury was just full of shit, trying to get in my way. He still was, of course - but it seems he was at least right about this. Amazing. They try to call you the most dangerous mercenary alive, and you're just - what, a mindless enforcer for Merced? She always was the brains of you two. She whispering in your ear right now?"

Leering aggressively at Ross from behind his mask, Tony didn't respond for a moment. Apparently, he had to add yet another person to the list of 'everyone knows this shit but me' regarding The Hub...though if he was lucky, Ross didn't realize the woman was apparently his wife.

Man, he really was struggling to internalize that. It stuck in his craw like a piece of food that just wouldn't go down; could he call her? Promptly, Tony realized that was ridiculous to even be considering right now. He had bigger problems than getting his head screwed on straight, and almost all of them were right in front of him. "Gimme one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now, Thaddeus."

"Because if I'm even half-right about how your last few days have gone, you're too curious; otherwise, you would have thrown one of your ridiculous ripoff toys at me already. Come on, Masters. Just get in the sub and we can talk this out like the adult that I am and that you pretend to be."

Shrugging off the insults - when they came this fast they were pretty much just like a gentle rain, especially from Ross - Taskmaster made his way up onto the submarine. "Fine, but you try anything on me, and I'll run ya through. I know you can't Hulk out anymore, and the power of arthritis ain't gonna save ya if you pull yer usual crap."

"You really seem to resent the fact that I've lived to an old age, Masters." Ross sounded amused as he let the mercenary descend the ladder into the submarine first, following after. Despite his age, Tony marveled at how much of a tank of a man Thaddeus was; Tony was still a little taller than the not-so-good general, but Ross had to be nearly twice as wide as him, and he looked like he still had the strength to match it. Taskmaster made a mental note not to underestimate him if this did get violent - Red Hulk or no, this was a man who had tangled with the best and come out with his ridiculous facial hair intact.

"I think everyone on God's Green Earth resents you still being alive." Impossibly, the damned submarine seemed even bigger on the inside! The gargantuan seacraft's interior was more cavernous than he had expected; as soon as Taskmaster had set foot on the metal floor of the highest level, he could tell that at least this section of the ship was a single enormous hallway, wide enough to drive a tank through and sparsely populated with only a few men and women milling about reading reports, checking equipment, and saluting Ross as he approached. The old general led Taskmaster in a direction that he could only vaguely parse as towards the bridge of the vessel, if his itching familiarity was anything to go by.

"Hilarious. Remember this place yet?" Ross asked, sounding legitimately curious. Adjusting his cuff-links before leaning down to take off his glasses and get read by a retinal scanner, he straightened as a bulkhead opened, leading them towards a small fleet of what looked like sleeker, militarized golf carts. "Come on. I'm too old to be walkin' like this, and you're gettin' there yourself."

"...I don't," Taskmaster admitted honestly. "But I've been here, haven't I?" He didn't even need to ask the question, he could tell. When his specific memories failed him, the muscle memory didn't; he knew the layout of this place. He wasn't lost, and he could -feel- like he knew what was coming, which only made the mercenary more anxious as he stuffed himself into the cart that was far too small for both him and Ross. 

"Been here? Son, you spent six months in this sub training the Scions. This here's the home of the United States' greatest super-soldier project since Steve Rogers himself; and if ya knew how many shots we've taken at that particular target over the years, you'd understand how impressive that is. Hell, even you were an example of the Krauts tryin' to get in on the action, until ya stole their big bad serum."

"I like to think I rescued it," Taskmaster corrected as Ross drove them through the submarine. The first few chambers were nondescript, full of nothing more than the extensive supplies and equipment that a vessel this size needed to remain underwater for months at a time. As they approached the bridge, however, things got a little more interesting. Tony caught sight of men and women in strange gas masks, with bulging muscles and aggressive body language, being herded by handlers into a series of cargo elevators; he saw tanks full of human beings being studied by scientists, readings being checked and one of them even awake and looking distinctly panicked. "Speaking of rescue, the -fuck- are you doing to those guys?"

"Saving their lives, believe it or not. If they weren't in those tanks, they'd be dying of oxygen poisoning due to a rare mutation they've developed."

"Developed during one of your little super-soldier experiments. Real noble of ya." Taskmaster sighed. This place was wearing him down more by the minute, aggravating his already explosive temper, and he wondered vaguely if Ross was hoping for that result. All the more reason to stay on his guard. "Look, quit baitin' me and spit it out. What'd I do here? And -why-?" Dread laced his words, even though he tried to avoid it. As much as Tony hated to admit it, he was a little scared to find his own history on this project, and with the Scions...

...But not enough to avoid finding the answer.

Pulling the cart up to the bulkhead outside the head of the submarine, a digital screen displaying the ocean around them and betraying that they were moving -quite- quickly through the water, Ross stepped out and gestured for Taskmaster to follow him. As the caped mercenary tread at his heel, the general flashed his eye at another retinal scanner, then his palm print at another. Whatever this was, it had even heavier security that the chambers they'd already passed through, and as the pair stepped into an elevator, Ross finally replied to him.

"Well, first and foremost, ya ought to know -- this is YET another one of SHIELD's old messes". The elevator didn't have even a single button; it clearly was designed to exclusively travel between two destinations, and if Taskmaster's experience with SHIELD told him anything, this was the -only- way in or out of the other location. Wherever Ross was taking him, it was the kind of government secret that even Nick Fury would have a hard time getting access to. "Well, SHIELD's and yours. You ever wonder about how much of a mess you leave behind when your memory resets, Masters? Or do ya really trust The Hub to clean up after you? 'Cause I gotta tell you, she does a fine job - but not a perfect one."

Tony didn't respond to the comment about his wife. He could tell he was being baited. Instead, keeping his eyes on the prize, he asked, "Get to the point before your heart gives out, gram-gram. What happened?"

"You happened, Masters. When you took that serum that gave you your photographic reflexes, it was when a laboratory full of the stuff was exploding. The kraut bastard who told you what it was capable of told you it was the last dose, right?"

"Fuck if I know," Taskmaster answered honestly.

"Exactly. So shut up and listen, boy. That facility was at the top of a mountain - and a great deal of that serum that was 'destroyed' in the blast actually leaked into the water supply. The Hub knew about this; something about a 'village of Hitlers', which I definitely do not want to know more about." He shook his head as the elevator opened into a dark hallway. In fact, it was pitch black until some overhead lights came to life one after another, exposing black walls and smooth floors that reminded him of what he'd heard of the Red Room. "That woulda been the end of it -- except it turns out about ten years ago, water from wells near the village was gathered en masse by the suppliers for some disaster aid groups. You figure out where this is going?"

For a moment he didn't, but as they proceeded down the hallway, Taskmaster's eyes widened down his mask. "...The Scions."

"Children from families in poverty or disaster-stricken areas across the last decade," Ross confirmed. "Each displaying unusual capacity for perfect mimickry of complex tasks -- photographic reflexes, previously only known to a select handful of individuals, including you, Masters. Your serum got out into the world, and now little Task-babies are sprouting up. Russia, Ireland, Brazil, even Wakanda after Namor wrecked the place. We found them and brought them here -- to the greatest training facility in the world."

They passed through a security checkpoint with a couple of silent, armed guards flanking them into a gargantuan arena that seemed too massive, too awe-inspiring, for even the gargantuan submarine that they were inside. Curved walls and ceiling reminded Tony of a stadium, right down to what almost resembled bleachers along the edges of either side. The 'field' was littered with what must have been a hundred different types of training equipment, from futuristic-looking weightlifting machines to obstacle courses that Taskmaster immediately recognized as his own design. He'd made them some years ago to test not his students, but himself and the limits of his photographic reflexes. To have them here meant only one thing:

"...So you brought in the best teacher to train them," Tony said with resignation. Had he really agreed to this? Had The Hub? 

"Exactly," Ross nodded in agreement. "We might not get along on a personal level, Masters, but there's no denying your credentials. Given actual time and resources, you've sculpted some of the finest government agents we've ever had: John Walker, Spider-Woman, even Crossbones before he went rogue. Besides, there's no one else who's as much of an expert as you on photographic reflexes. Some of the other people in charge of this project wanted to bring on Echo or Finesse, but they were considered a little too...sympathetic."

"Yer flatterin' me," Taskmaster deadpanned. "So glad I'm the one you think of when it comes to tutoring kidnapped children." They descended a long ramp towards the training machines; was Taskmaster imagining something, or did he see a dried bloodstain in the combat ring? Before he could focus on it, the earpiece hidden in his mask came to life, a crackling signal of a few rapid, stuttering sounds. It was The Hub, reporting through an old Cherokee code that they used to send messages back and forth when the risk of being overheard was high. Translation?

'The kids are safe. Black Ant's coming to back you up.'

It was a good thing, too. TESS wasn't going to be the reinforcements he needed, she didn't fare too well at getting underwater. Eric, though...well, sometimes he wondered if he really did need to give the guy more credit. They'd have to talk about this once he was done here, if he survived his insane plan that was forming now.

"I'm not flattering you," Ross growled out, stopping in front of the combat ring. "I'm guessing that you've already figured out this didn't exactly end well. You know how long you were here, Masters? Three months. And it turns out that for all three of those months, as you were training those kids, you were preparing to abscond with government property. Remember that part, Masters? When ya tried to steal from us?"

Tony saw Ross rounding on him, sensed the agents approaching him from behind with batons in hand. It should have been a fight he could manage, even an -easy- one...but he couldn't move.

Suddenly his memory came rushing back, so powerful and overwhelming it nearly brought him to his knees. He couldn't even lift a hand to defend himself as he heard the attack coming, felt the rush of wind of the baton smashing into the base of his skull from behind. Stumbling forward before collapsing right onto his face, Tony looked up and saw Ross one last time before the darkness took him.

\--

"Tasky."

When consciousness returned, it brought explosive pain with it, a shooting star that begun at the base of Tony's neck and erupted in every direction from there. He groaned and tried to bring his hands to his suffering temples, only to find that he was tied down; bound by steel cables to a stretcher, he could barely wiggle his arms and legs. That got his attention. 

The mercenary opened his eyes, which felt bleary and unfocused. He was definitely still aboard the submarine, in what he recognized now as the interrogation room. Dim lighting, an assortment of torture devices nearby; this wasn't good. 

"Tasky!" Came a tiny voice, directly in his left ear. He winced at the severity. It could only be Eric.

"Black Ant...?" He murmured. Had he been drugged? He felt sluggish, even moreso than he should from having gotten whacked across the dome. "How'd you find me so quickly?"

"I didn't," Eric replied; he was barely the size of an ant, really living up to his name, sitting inside Taskmaster's ear. "You've been here for four days. I had to wait for the submarine to surface at a hidden base near the Everglades before I could sneak on board. They really messed you up, man. You gonna be good to go?"

Trying to figure out what Eric meant, Tony looked down. His costume was gone; he was wearing...well, nothing, and a number of fresh wounds marked his skin every few inches. The effects of the drugs had exacerbated his amnesia, but now he remembered; they'd spent hour after hour torturing him, driving implements into his flesh and drowning him to get the answer to one simple question:

"Where are the kids?"

He felt a surge of pride, spiteful and strong, as he realized he hadn't told them a damn thing. "I'm fine. Can you get me out of here?"

"Yeah," Eric replied, "But it'll take me a few minutes. They really didn't take any chances; I'm gonna have to use my fusion cutter. Keep still, alright? I already looped the camera feed, and they usually only come in here once an hour. We've got plenty of time." He felt the tiny merc jump out of his ear and start to grow, pulling a device that looked much like a miniature welding torch out of his belt. As he started to cut his way through the cables with the intense blue laser that it emitted, Taskmaster spoke up.

"Thanks for coming for me, little buddy."

"Of course. Thanks for not breaking; would've been a real hassle if we had to deal with the Yellow Submarine here. Besides, it's my job." 

Tony was grateful, but with his memory returned...he had to ask. "...And because you feel guilty, huh?"

Eric almost paused the cutting with the torch, he was so surprised. "What do you mean?" Taskmaster could sense some brief hesitation as he finished the job, cutting enough of the cable so that Tony could take the fusion cutter and free his own legs. 

"You knew this whole time what happened here," Tony responded calmly. He didn't sound angry; he didn't FEEL angry. "...You were here, too. They brought you in for another job, figured since we were partners, it'd be fine." Now Eric -did- stop cutting. Taskmaster could tell the younger mercenary was stunned, that now, of all times, he didn't expect this to come up. "You came in and saw me training the Scions...found out from The Hub I was planning to help them escape. Together, we were gonna do it. We were gonna do something good for once in our lives, Eric."

"Tony..." Black Ant's mask came up, the automatic visor lifting to reveal his face. He looked terrified, legitimately so, even with his messy red hair covering half his face. Tony didn't stop, rising from his bindings. Something about his presence, despite the blood matting his hair and the fact he was naked, must have been striking; Eric backed away. 

"...We were almost out, weren't we? We'd almost saved them when Ross's heavy hitter came. It was a tough fight. So tough, I had to use my photographic reflexes to stop her...and it fried my brain, as it tends to do. I forgot what we were doing. Forgot we were trying to -save- those kids." He advanced a step; Eric retreated one. Tony didn't sound angry.

But he felt pretty angry.

"...We had to get out of there," Eric accused. "You were suddenly operating on auto-pilot, Tony. You think I WANTED to leave the kids behind? But we were ALL gonna die, them included, if we didn't bail! You don't know what it's like!" Eric's fear turned into anger of its own now. 

Eric was right; Tony didn't know. "...You could have told me later. We could have come back for them." 

"And what, heard you call me full of shit? Your BRAIN. IS. BROKEN!" Eric roared. "HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE IT UP WITH THE HUB! IT'S HER FUCKING JOB TO KEEP YOU IN CHECK, NOT MINE! AND YET HERE I AM!"

"...Yeah. It should have been The Hub," Tony agreed, looking around the interrogation room. Damn; they hadn't been stupid enough to keep his equipment nearby. "...Or ya mean, my wife?" 

Eric didn't respond to that, averting his eyes. A tense silence hung in the air for awhile between them before Tony finally spoke. 

"We got pretty loud, they're gonna check this out. We...can talk about this later. You came for me, O'Grady. We're still a team. I'll do my best, but without any weapons, this ain't gonna be easy."

Happy to change the subject, Black Ant tossed something so small Tony's way that he barely caught it even with his uncanny reflexes. "Here. It's not much...but I was able to sneak this in." As he triggered the Pym Particles, Taskmaster broke into a grin. He hadn't seen -this- thing in awhile...

It was his energy generator, old SHIELD tech that could take any shape at the will of its wielder; he preferred to have a larger arsenal on hand, so he'd eventually abandoned it, but right now? It was exactly what he needed. Strapping it to his forearm, the mercenary straightened as he heard footsteps rushing towards the interrogation room. "Thanks, little buddy. Let's do this."

Relieved, Eric didn't hesitate to crack a joke. "Can that thing take the shape of pants, by chance? I don't really feel like staring at your glazed hams for this whole fight." 

"Sorry, I'm going balls out for this one. Literally." With that, Taskmaster broke into a sprint just as the bulkhead door opened; the first thing the agent who entered saw was a very naked, very muscular brown-haired man leaping into the air, just before the jumping snap kick borrowed from Batroc the Leaper broke his neck. As he went down hard, another of the guards went for the alarm, but Black Ant was already leap-frogging over Tony's shoulder, shrinking and then growing in rapid sequence to slip right through the crowd and tackle him. 

"Help!" The man cried out. "The prisoner's escap--" He was cut off as Eric's fusion torch was shoved into his mouth, evaporating his tongue and boiling his brain in seconds. "Ew," Black Ant commented, even as he leapt backwards and drove his elbow into another sentry who was approaching him from behind. 

Taskmaster had the rest under control. He had a feeling these guys were trained to fight him; that was a mistake on their part. Instead of his first instinct to turn his energy generator on into the shape of Cap's shield or Black Knight's broadsword, he dug a little deeper. He could tell it had been a good idea when a heavily armored soldier reeled back in surprise as the form of Shang-Chi's nunchaku came to life, whirling like a tornado to deflect an oncoming strike from a stun baton before taking most of his teeth out with a vicious swat across the face. 

The pair were a blur of motion, perfectly coordinated until the last of the guards had fallen. They'd come a long way from accidentally hitting each other like the first time they'd faced Spider-Man together, that was for sure.

"That's better..." Taskmaster breathed, dismissing the energy nunchaku. "I remember the layout of this place; we're dead in the center of the sub. Even if we fought our way out, thing's on the move right now, isn't it?"

Black Ant nodded. "Yep. We're back at sea; I barely had time to get on board before Ross was moving again. Even being able to track you, it was hard to infiltrate this thing...I can see why he likes it." 

"Then escape ain't an option. We gotta commandeer the sub."

"How?" Black Ant asked. "There's hundreds of soldiers here, not to mention Ross himself and whoever he's hired as his elite security. We won't be able to hold the bridge that long."

Taskmaster considered this. "Good point. I'll head for the bridge. You go to the Engine Room. If we can't conquer the submarine, we'll hold it hostage. You can threaten to blow the engines, sink the whole thing, unless they let me take us to the surface. Even if they try to rush the engine room, you can shrink down and start causing trouble to get them to back off."

Eric thought about it, then nodded. "...Risky, but our best option. You'll be taking most of the heat, though; Ross is gonna be on the bridge, and he'll call reinforcements to save his wrinkly butt. You sure you'll be okay? You look pretty roughed up." The concern was touching; it reminded Tony he needed to give Eric the benefit of the doubt. He wasn't sure he could let what had happened slide entirely...but he didn't need to punish the mercenary for it. 

"...I'm good. Thanks, Eric. We'll get out of this together, alright? See ya on the other side." He extended a closed hand.

Smiling, Black Ant bumped his fist with his own. "Yeah. We got this."

With that, they split up, unsure if they'd ever see each other again.

\---

By the time Taskmaster ran into the next pack of guards, he wasn't even thinking anymore about the fact he was completely naked. At first he thought it'd be funny, surprising these assholes with some full frontal nudity before kicking their asses, but he was just angry. Angry, cold, and ready to show them exactly how big of a mistake they had made.

Two of the sentries had guns, high-tech air rifles designed to be lethal without risking the integrity of the submarine. He took them down first, generating shuriken and flinging them with enough force to go right through the men's hands and send them to the ground howling in pain.

A Bullseye special. A second later, he was bringing forth a little trick from Zaran the Weapons Master, cleaving through his assailants with the wickedly curved blade of a chinese hooksword. Hawkeye, Iron Fist, Daredevil; these men were clearly expecting those heroes, had trained and prepared accordingly. He could read it in their movements.

As the last one fell, gurgling as a hole poked in their throat surged with blood, Tony shook his head. "Fuckin' amateurs. You think I've spent my whole life doin' this and I only got five people's moves? I was bein' -nice- before." He was close to the bridge now. A little longer, and he'd knock Ross out, tie his moustache to a radiator or something, and be done with this.

"Nothing nice about what I'm looking at, Taskmaster." Tony nearly froze. He knew that voice. It was the only one Thaddeus could have hired to reasonably stop him -- the only mercenary alive he considered to be on his level...and the one he'd been forced to throw everything at just to survive last time.

Elektra Natchios, clad head to toe in black leather armor save for the red mask around the lower half of her face, stood between him and the entrance to the bridge.

"...You again," he growled. She didn't lose her composure at his obvious venom, though she did seem visibly amused.

"You remember, then. I suppose that means you know this won't end well for you. Give up, Taskmaster. You're out of your depth here; you don't even have that ridiculous suit of yours."

"...I thought you had a soft spot for kids, Elektra. This doesn't seem like your kind of job." Tony gripped the energy generator on his wrist, considering what to summon. What could he really use to surprise the world's greatest assassin?

"Don't pretend you know me," she countered. Unsurprisingly, her signature sai were her weapon of choice; she rarely -needed- much else, drawing them from her hips and twirling them in place. "Who are you to talk? You ruined those kid's lives already, blowing up that facility and letting them develop your powers. I'm trying to help them; -Ross- is trying to help them. Do you realize they're already starting to get your memory problems? I don't like Ross, but he's the only one working on a cure. Psychics, scientists, the whole nine yards; he's saving them."

"He's turning them into weapons," Taskmaster growled. "You're fucking deluded if you think he's doing anything because he has their best interests in mind." 

"Not as deluded as a naked supervillain who thinks he's the hero here. No more words." Elektra rushed at him, her body little more than a black-and-crimson blur. Even having faced her multiple times, Taskmaster was always alarmed by her speed; it was like trying to battle a waterfall, all its weight bearing down on you...and just as useless to try and hit. 

She didn't stop, didn't run into him; she dashed right past him, swinging her sai for his shoulder. Turning and summoning his Captain America shield on reflex, he realized immediately that was her whole plan, to push him into falling back into his faithful moves, his reliable ones. Too late; she was already pirouetting like a dancer, bringing her other dagger up and driving it into his back. It would have run through his kidney and ended the fight right there if he hadn't caught on, but he managed to turn and instead have it driven straight into the muscle group behind his ribs instead.

No time for pain. He swiped with the shield, missed as she deftly ducked, but he was back in control. On the backswing, the shield became a gauntlet, enveloping his fist. Elektra's eyes widened in surprise as she was clocked across the face by a classic move from The Destroyer; she recovered quickly, rolling with the momentum and whirling her leg up in a kick that stopped him from being able to pursue. Now on guard, she closed in once more, this time protecting herself with one sai while thrusting with the other.

A katana. A boomerang. A large, bouncing ball that rapidly whacked Elektra in the forehead and then bounced back into his hand to intercept an attempted cut. Taskmaster pushed himself to his limits, conjuring the most esoteric and obscure techniques he'd ever picked up, desperate to keep Elektra from overwhelming him. As her nose ran red with blood, the same red that trickled down his wounded back, the mercenaries circled each other.

"I always respected you for being able to keep up," Elektra admitted. "Put anything in your hand and it becomes a deadly weapon."

"Bit late for flattery," Taskmaster replied, preparing to summon the next energy weapon...but he didn't get a chance. Elektra dove in, went low with a stab for his thigh. When he stepped back to avoid it, she came up, smashing her skull into his chin and nearly making him bite his own tongue off, sending him staggering. Reflexively, he moved to summon his shield again - damn it - and she punished him for it. Instead of trying to stab his less vulnerable head, she shoved her sai right through the energy generator itself.

It sputtered, sparked...and died. Suddenly, Taskmaster was weaponless. 

"It wasn't flattery. I was explaining your weakness. You're a mimic, Masters...a vague shadow, always one step behind those of us who push ourselves to be the best." She wasn't haughty, wasn't arrogant; just stating facts. Every word stung as true as her dagger as she started towards him. "You gave up everything to be the greatest fighter alive...and you failed at even that."

She lunged. It was all Tony could do to keep himself away from the vicious points of her weapons; he took a kick, a backhand, a pommel smack across the temple in his desperate attempt to block her myriad stabs and cuts. She was a whirlwind of speed and aggression, not reckless but wholly confident that he couldn't keep up with her without a weapon, couldn't spare himself getting run through and land a blow against her at the same time.

Realizing she was right, Tony took a deep breath...and charged head-long at her. He'd told himself there was no way he could truly copy someone like Wolverine; he'd tear his body apart. 

But right now, that was a worthy price. As Elektra tried to guard herself with a vicious cross-up slash, Tony suddenly reversed his momentum, trying not to scream in pain when one of his ankles cracked from the sheer speed with which he re-directed his momentum. The assassin couldn't keep up as he whirled in a capoeria kick that smashed her across the jaw, sending her spinning. 

She was correct. He couldn't copy his way out of this one. There was one thing, though, that Tony had that even she couldn't match. "You know why I'm the only merc who hasn't fucking -died- and come back by now?" He growled through bloody teeth, rushing at Elektra again. She caught him, intercepted his oncoming punch with her sai. Pain shot through Tony's hand like lightning as the blade punched between his knuckle like a sick inversion of Wolverine's claw, thrusting all the way down until it emerged from his wrist.

But he didn't stop. Taking advantage of his greater weight and raw, adrenaline-fueled strength, he used the fact her blade was stuck in his hand to -yank- her towards him, smashing his forehead into her nose. Elektra reeled, bringing her other sai up into his ribcage; he felt the sick, liquid heat of the wound opened in his liver, then swatted his right hand up with staggering force to box her in the ear, causing her to issue forth a scream of pain that she couldn't even hear as her eardrum exploded. 

"Because for all the shit you talk about being better...none of you know how to -survive-. None of you know what it means to really be outgunned, to be against a better opponent...and to take them the fuck down."

Again.

Again.

He beat her. He savaged her. She kept ripping away, giving up on her sai embedded in his flesh and clawing at him with her nails, biting him like a wounded and angry animal, tearing flesh off a chunk at a time. 

But he drove his fingers into one of her eyes, slammed his knee into her stomach, and ripped out one of her sai, finally shoving it into her gut. Wavering a moment, Elektra looked down at her wound...and finally collapsed.

It was all Taskmaster could do to not mimic that, too.

"You'll live," he muttered, wiping a frothy mix of his saliva and both of their blood from his face. "As for me...remains to be seen." Taking both of her sai, bleeding from a dozen wounds and running purely on adrenaline, Taskmaster advanced towards the bridge. One brave soldier, a survivor of the previous fight, took aim with an airsoft gun -- he never even saw the dagger that was thrown directly between his eyes, killing him on the spot.

The bulkhead of the bridge hissed as it opened. Thunderbolt Ross was on a mic, shouting himself hoarse. "NATCHIOS! COME IN! IS TASKMASTER--" Hearing the door, he turned around and cursed. "Fucking christ, Masters...you look dead already. ...Hey!" He didn't expect the sheer speed with which Tony closed the gap, driving the sai into his shoulder and literally pinning him to the wall. As he started to struggle, Tony twisted the weapon, narrowing his good eye; the other one was swelling shut, more purple than brown by now. 

"We're surfacing. The Hub's going to pick me up. You're never gonna see those kids again. You wanted to know where they were? They're..." He paused, remembering Laura Kinney's last nod to him as she boarded the quinjet.

"They're with an -actual- hero. They're safe, and they're out of your reach." 

"Who do you think you are, Masters?" Ross spat. "You'll bleed out before we even breach. You got no idea who the fuck you're messing with, Uncle Sam's--" 

"--Uncle Sam isn't gonna do shit. I remember everything now, Thaddeus. This project? It's your little pet. Off the books. No accountability...but no backup. You'll be disowned; thrown out of the military if you're lucky, into The Raft if you're not. And ya know what? I came up here fully intending to bury this fucking dagger in your skull...but I've seen what it looks like to actually give a shit about human life, even worthless ones like yours. So I'm gonna let them." 

He jabbed his thumb into a pressure point he'd picked up from Shang-Chi years ago, and Ross fell silent. Stumbling to the controls, he grabbed hold of the mic, even as his photographic reflexes took over and automatically went about commanding the enormous vessel to breach. It was optimized for Ross himself to pilot, all the sub-systems that would normally require a staff of dozens to manage redirected through this very console. A strength...and a weakness.

"Black Ant...this is Taskmaster. I got the bridge. You good?"

He heard gunfire, and for the first time, legitimately felt a pang of fear. Then the speakers crackled. "I'm good. No one else here. You sound like shit."

"Yeah, well...shove...shove it up yer ass, O'Grady."

Taskmaster collapsed against the control panel, just as the submarine began to gain altitude.

EPILOGUE 

Tony woke in a stark white room, hooked up to so many machines that he couldn't tell where his arms ended and the needles and cables began. Nauseous with pain and barely able to lift his head, he was greeted with not only the faces of Black Ant and Wolverine, but even the hooded mask of Spymaster and Mara, the young leader of the Scions. 

"No one was sure you'd make it," Laura said. "But I said you were pretty damn tough...for a supervillain." Her smirk was wry; maybe it was too optimistic to say it was fond...but it showed relief that he was awake. More than he'd expected.

"...Where am I?" He groaned.

"Albino's hospital," Spymaster explained. He almost collapsed again with relief. There was no one he'd trust more to patch him up after a fight like that. "Don't worry, you haven't been out for another four days...only one this time." Tony winced at the lost time, but it was better than being dead.

"...Ross? The sub?"

"I arrested Ross myself," Laura confirmed. "He's in the Raft awaiting trial. The Scions have agreed to testify, and with that, it's pretty much certain he'll never see the light of day again." 

"Hell yeah," Tony replied, then glanced over at Eric. "You make it out alright?"

"Better than you," O'Grady affirmed, then lifted the t-shirt he was wearing to expose an enormous hole in his torso. Tony could see cables and machinery all around the wound. "Except for this. But sometimes being an LMD is kind of awesome, huh? I'm on my way to the repair shop now, but wanted to check in with you first."

"Thanks, buddy." 

"...Well, we might not see each other for awhile, after all." Eric averted his eyes, then narrowed them at Laura.

"What do ya mean?" Tony looked curious, then felt a surge of panic as he realized that he wasn't too weak to lift his arm: it was cuffed to the bed.

Laura, her eyes apologetic but her voice firm, didn't make him wait. "...Ross isn't the only one I arrested," she began. "Elektra is also in jail...and you will be too, as soon as you're able to walk."

"Are you fucking--" Taskmaster started, but when Spymaster held up a hand, he stopped. 

"Let her talk," Spymaster pleaded. Furious but silent, he nodded for Laura to continue.

"...You have to be tried for what you did, Taskmaster. For a lot of it. But this isn't supposed to be revenge. I told you the Scions are going to testify against Ross..."

Mara picked up where she left off, "...But we're going to testify for you, too. Spymaster explained everything on the Quinjet. About your memory issues. About how you really did want to help us...but you didn't know we existed after you fought Elektra."

Laura nodded at that, then added, after the first hesitation she'd shown this whole time, "...And I'll be testifying, too. I'll tell them about how much of a bastard you are...but also how much I think you can change, if you really try. If someone gives you a chance. You're not well, Tony." It was the first time she'd used his name, -really- used it. "You don't need to be in prison...you need help. And I think if you got it, you could really do a lot of good. But this can't keep happening. You can't keep forgetting who you are, then going right back to mercenary work. I'm hunting The Hub now. She has to account for how she's been controlling you...and if she really is your wife, if she's trying to help you do good as well...then she needs to do better. She needs to bring in professionals. You're not a good man, Taskmaster...but maybe you could be, someday. With help."

Tony tried to look mad, but it didn't work with the tears starting to well in his eyes. "...Why you? Of all people?"

Digging into her pocket, Laura tossed something familiar onto his chest. It was barely as big as his pinky. "After you shot my sisters and I took you down, I wondered about why you seemed so reluctant to fight me. I found the 'bullet' you hit Gabby with. Airsoft pellet...wouldn't have done more than knock her out even if she hadn't been wearing armor. I realized that on some level, even you know you can't keep going on like this...and you don't want to be the villain you let yourself be made out as."

Taskmaster didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything -to- say. Staring at the deformed pellet, he just laid his head back on his pillow. Smiling faintly, Wolverine gently patted the side of his bed.

"Alright. He needs to rest," came another voice. It was Albino, a sharp-featured and white-haired woman dressed in a pristine lab coat and with a complete lack of fear as she entered the room. "If you want him able to attend this ridiculous trial of yours, I suggest you let him sleep. Out."

Tony watched them go, even weakly lifting a shackled hand to wave at Mara. Black Ant lingered, then leaned down to whisper, "And if they -do- try to put you away, I'll spring ya, buddy. We'll go on the lam together. It's win-win!" With that, he skipped out with the rest.

For the first time in ages, Tony was smiling - sincerely and wholly - as he fell back asleep under Albino's loyal care.

\--

Black Ant had gone off for repairs, and Mara had already been escorted away; upon being informed of Akeja's location, Black Panther had quickly contacted Wolverine and agreed to bring all of the Scions to an Academy in Wakanda, where their burgeoning memory issues could be addressed and they could get the care and education they needed after the year they'd missed since their kidnapping. Attempts would be made to find their families, but they would be well cared for regardless.

Now it was just Laura and Spymaster, who stopped the heroine as she was about to leave. "Kinney."

"What?" Laura turned back to face the hooded woman, narrowing her eyes. "Just because I'm helping Taskmaster doesn't mean we're friends. We're finished here."

"...No we're not," Spymaster replied. "In fact, I suspect you're going to want to have a long talk with me." She pulled down her hood, then lifted her mask. Laura had never seen her before; it wasn't someone she recognized, a latina woman with a shock of black hair, stunningly intelligent brown eyes, and the most long-suffering, yet confident quirk of the lips she'd ever laid eyes on.

"...My name's Mercedes Merced. I'm Taskmaster's wife -- and The Hub."


End file.
